Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn
by redtrouble
Summary: The semi-abridged version of SoA, this tale is about Jayda, the rogue Bhaalspawn, as she struggles with her tainted fate, from the capture of her childhood friend to the loss of her soul, being consumed by her dark father's legacy, and the guilt that everything she touches dies... all while accidentally falling in love with a clever thief.
1. City of Coin

**Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn**

**By:** redtrouble

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything within the Baldur's Gate franchise or the Forgotten Realms universe. Jayda is my own creation, as are many of the personalities developed for under-explored NPCs (ex: Gaelan Bayle).

I have been in love with the Bhaalspawn's story from the moment I first played this game more than 10 years ago. I always wanted to write down my own adventure but I knew it would be a serious commitment and never found the time, until now. Early this year, I decided to write an abridged version (which has turned out to be less and less abridged as it goes on). However, as any writer of fanfiction knows, their work is only a fraction of their own. It is a collaborative process, be it be between the author and the game designers or a much larger relationship to include community creators. My story is only what it is thanks to BioWare and the modding community. I planned to include my disclaimer, my credits, and my thanks at the end, but really it should be stated first and foremost.

**Credits:**

**BioWare**

**Aeryn Phoenix** for her wonderful Haer'dalis romance mod. It provided a wonderful world of interactions with him and I loved every second of it. You can find it here: http / / www . spellholdstudios . net ie/haerdalisromance (Please add a forward slash between . net and ie). I highly recommend it.

**Gibberlings 3** for their Romantic Encounters mod. While Jayda didn't have too many romantic encounters with anyone, snippets of dialogue and hilarious situations used in the mod inspired several moments in the story. You can find it here: http / / www . gibberlings3 . net romanticencounters/ (Please add a forward slash between . net and romantic)

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope you check out all the awesome mods available out there and have as good a time with them as I did.

* * *

**Act 1**

**City of Coin**

The ground shook around them as the four adventurers raced up the trembling tunnel, sprinting toward the light that grew brighter and brighter the closer they came. Imoen nearly tripped but Minsc's strong arm pulled her back onto her feet. Behind them, the sound of fighting and of fleeing screeched after their flight while horrific memories and the ghosts of their dead loved ones burned holes in their vulnerable backs. Dust and pebbles dislodged from above and showered their heads, stinging their eyes. But the light came closer.

Jaheira cried out in the seconds of the last stretch, and even as the four friends leapt through the mouth of the tunnel, the earth shook violently and an explosion sent a powerful wave of energy through the gap, throwing them from the passageway. A high-pitched whine blocked out all other noise as Jayda fought to grasp her bearings, and then a terrifying scream of rage echoed over the explosion and thunderous rockslide. When the group looked up, they could see through their hazy vision that the passageway had collapsed.

Jayda reached out, fingers slipping over loose chunks of rock. The sounds of battle came crashing onto her eardrums and her blurry gaze began to focus on slippery foes charging a bold figure that stood atop the ruined tunnel. She sucked in a breath as a lump of anger welled in her chest, threatening to blind her already cloudy vision. She knew this man. He was her tormentor. He was the murderer of her friends. He was Jon Irenicus. He would soon be a dead man.

She clenched her sword and pushed through the mangle of stone at her feet, focused on her target. Her companions called after her but she did not acknowledge their cries.

"You dare to attack me here?" Irenicus exclaimed as dark-clad strangers threw themselves at him. "Do you even know whom you face?" Magical energies gathered between his hands as though he were born of the stuff and he unleashed bolt after bolt of deadly light. "You will suffer! You will _all_ suffer!"

In a matter of moments, all the foes that dared attack him were vaporized. His power was unlike anything she had ever seen or ever faced. But she was not afraid. She gripped her sword tightly and stalked forward, hatred burning at her core. And then the mage turned on her and his cold, soulless eyes gripped hers in a deadlock of fury.

"So, godchild, you have escaped. You are more resourceful than I had thought," he said.

Jayda stopped and planted her feet firmly, ready for what was to come. She was exhausted, molested, terrified, and in mourning. Most of all, she was enraged. Was their desperate fight for freedom a mere inconvenient escape to him?

"You killed my friends, tortured those still alive, tormented me, and now you dare stand before me and bark of my resourcefulness?" she exclaimed. "I will have your head on a pike!"

Imoen stepped up to her right side while Minsc and Jaheira filled the space on the left, all brandishing weapons.

"You're not going to torture us any longer!" Imoen shouted.

"Torture?" Irenicus echoed in a patronizing tone, as though he were scolding a child. "Silly girl, you just don't understand what I'm doing, do you?"

"I don't care what you're doing!" she replied, and her anguish was evident. "Let us go!"

"I won't let you leave!" His muscles flexed as his arms swiveled wide for another spell and his gaze shifted to Jayda's. "Not when I'm so close to unlocking your power!"

Jayda tightened her grip on her sword and started forward but Imoen reacted first.

"We don't want anything from you!" she cried out bravely, and red lights flew from her fingertips.

The mage soaked up the magic missile as though a mere breeze had brushed his skin. He tilted his chin up and gazed condescendingly upon them.

"Enough," he growled. "I will no longer listen to the babbling of ignorant children!"

As Jayda lifted her sword and took the first step of her charge, purple helixes of light flashed all around them and five black-robed wizards appeared.

"This is an unsanctioned use of magical energies!" one exclaimed.

"All involved will be held!" another declared. "This disturbance is over!"

"Must I be interrupted at every turn?" Irenicus seethed. "Enough of this!"

Jayda pushed Imoen back and she, too, shuffled away from the dueling wizards. Bright lights burst back and forth, but, like the foes before, each wizard that dared face her tormentor disintegrated under the ferocity of his power. In the smoldering aftermath, he stood victorious and untouched amid the dust of his victims.

Reinforcements teleported in as their companions were overcome, demanding for his surrender.

"Enough! I do not have time for this. Your pathetic magics are useless. Let this end," Irenicus told them.

"Even if we fall, our numbers are many!" one of the wizards warned him. "You will be overwhelmed."

"You bore me mageling," he spat. "You may take me in but you _will_ take the girl as well!" And then he turned his glare on Imoen and she shrank back against Jayda in sudden terror.

"What?" she cried. "No… No! I've done nothing wrong!"

"You have been involved in the illegal use of magic! You will come with us!" one of the wizards hissed.

"No," Imoen whimpered, desperately clinging to Jayda. "I'm not going with him. I'm not!" She screamed when the magical helix began to overtake her. "Help me!"

"Imoen!" Jayda shouted, grabbing fistfuls of her clothes as she attempted to drag her out of the spell. "Imoen!"

"Help me!"

And then she was gone. They were all gone. There was only ruin and rubble and the heavy weight of the dead.

Guards rushed to clear the mess while a crowd quickly amassed to gawk and gossip. Questions were hurled at them but Jayda didn't remember speaking to them. She felt like a lump, slumped onto the stone, barely held up by the bones in her body. The voices, muffled, sounded far away and the sun that arced across the sky brightened blurry lights and darkened shadows that shuffled to-and-fro, but she saw none of what they were. She could only see the great jest that was her life and the sorrow she suffered and wrought by her existence.

The last few months had been trial and tribulation, and when the dark followers finally descended upon them, she and her companions had awoken alone, afraid, and in pain. For an unknown amount of time, she had been tortured and harassed, and waited in the dark for some sign, for even an answer to just one of her hundreds of questions, but hope was silent to her cries.

The attack on the prison brought more peril and pain as the momentary flicker of relief at being once again reunited with Imoen, Minsc, and Jaheira was snuffed out with battles, bloodshed, and the discovery of Dynaheir's mangled body and Khalid's lacerated corpse. Imoen's trauma at their captor's hands echoed their haunted flight, her cheerful spirit and innocent vigor displaced by terror, paranoia, and a sudden and sick obsession with death.

Once again, Jayda and those close to her were forced into action, forced into fighting, forced into dying, forced into madness and chaos! Her captor's name, she learned, was Jon Irenicus, and he had dared to touch that corrupted part of her, unlock it—but why? As if her power was not enough, he took all that he could before his departure, and with him went Imoen—her sister and oldest friend. She was trapped in darkness. It was a feeling she hadn't felt since her foster father Gorion was murdered before her eyes.

The scream, the sickening plunge of the sword in his back, the life leaving his eyes—Jayda jerked as she snapped out of the memory, wide-eyed and heart pounding. Minsc stood nearby as Jaheira knelt in front of her and placed a mocha-skinned hand on her knee.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

It was then that Jayda noticed the commotion had passed. The guards that remained milled about, sealing off the area, and the throng gathered had mostly dispersed. They were sitting on white stone steps not far from the collapsed tunnel and there were dark strips of cloud streaking across the deep orange and fading yellow sky.

"Where are we?" she asked quietly.

"Athkatla," Jaheira replied, "in Amn."

"We've gone south," Jayda mumbled numbly.

"We must go quickly and save Imoen!" Minsc declared from above her. "The wizard may be leering over her evilly even now!"

"Do not be foolish, Minsc," Jaheira quietly scolded him. "We must know our enemies… and the extent of our danger, here… before we rush into anything."

"Something must be done, Jayda," Minsc insisted, stepping closer. "We must find this evil wizard! All that is goodness cries out for this! Even little Boo, although he cannot cry out quite so loudly."

Jayda nodded. "What do we know?"

She intercepted the glance exchanged between her two friends and listened attentively as Jaheira explained the situation.

"Imoen and Irenicus were taken by the Cowled Wizards. None seem to know much about them… only that those who are taken are rarely seen again. No one dares cross them and few know anything about them at all. They say these Cowled Wizards cannot be found nor challenged." She took a deep, exasperated breath and continued. "There's a war going on in this city, it seems, between the Shadow Thieves and some unknown rival guild recently come to Athkatla. The city guard has little control over the situation, and the turmoil has brought all manner of character to an already-diverse city."

"Mm," Jayda grunted as she digested the information, grasping for self-control as she wrestled against herself to focus on what her friend was saying and not what her mind was remembering. "We need answers. We have to find where the Cowled Wizards have taken Imoen and how to get her back. I won't leave her with that madman. I won't accept 'cannot be found'."

Jaheira's hand moved from Jayda's knee to her hand and that's when she realized her fists were clenched, every muscle in her body drawn up tight. With a bit of a struggle, she managed to uncurl her twitching fingers.

"Now that is a marvelous plan!" Minsc declared enthusiastically, already vamping himself up for a fight. "We will face the enemy head-on and deliver a righteous butt-kicking vengeance!"

Jaheira narrowed her green gaze on Jayda's gray eyes.

"I find it odd that this Irenicus would leave of his own volition," she said quietly. "And why take Imoen when it is you he is so obviously interested in? Perhaps he expects us to give chase."

"Of course he does," Jayda replied solemnly. "We eluded him and now he has found a way to bring us to him." There was a sudden bitter taste in her mouth. "And of that he is right…"

Jaheira nodded. "We must step carefully, then. We know little about him, who he was fighting, who took him, or even where we are. Perhaps we should see if allies can be found here…"

Jayda, Minsc, and Jaheira sat in silence, thoughts communicated by looks and nods. They were in agreement. So Jaheira stood and offered Jayda her hand, pulling the red-headed rogue to her feet.

"A guard suggested an inn called the Copper Coronet in the Slums. I believe it was his way of unwelcoming us to Athkatla."

Jayda glanced back at the blasted rubble that had taken a portion of the wall down, collapsing several tiers worth of shops and buildings.

"I don't really blame him. We've just arrived and already we're blowing up their city."

"Tsk, even Boo knows that a little destruction is good for a city's morale," Minsc interjected in all of his Rashemi wisdom. "Only then can it be rebuilt into something newer and better."

"Jaheira," Jayda began quietly, stepping closer to her druid friend. "About Khalid…"

"Don't," she hissed painfully, face contorting into sorrow. "Not now. I can't."

Jayda nodded and pushed forward through Waukeen's Promenade as the last strands of light left the sky and the Adventurer's Mart was deserted.


	2. Gaelan Bayle

**Gaelan Bayle**

The smell of the Slums reached them long before they reached the Slums; the stagnant water, rotting beggars, salty beef, and cheap ale was so thick in the cramped air that it seemed to permeate every pore. The hum of the overstuffed taverns, the barking jests and jousts of drunks, and the pleasure-filled cries of ladies of the night maintained the daytime energy of the rest of the city. Even in darkness, the Slums remained awake and alive.

They carefully picked their way through empty and better lit streets, avoiding alleyways and narrow passes as they worked their way deeper into the heart of the Slums to where they'd been told The Copper Coronet stood. She knew they were being followed. She sensed the movements in the shadows and caught glimpses in her peripherals of moving figures. What did they want? She wondered. Thieves looking to make easy coin? Spies tracking her movements? She only wanted a hot meal and a warm bed and to wake up and realize it had all been a terrible nightmare and she was back on the Trade Way with her friends, when Imoen was chirping funny tales and Khalid was bantering playfully with her while he held Jaheira in his arms and Minsc fussed affectionately over Dynaheir.

As she lost herself in her better memories, her fatigue set in and she almost didn't notice the person in the shadows in front of them.

"Coo! You'd be the one I be lookin' for, if I not be mistaken," he began with the Slum-drawl as he kicked off the wall and stepped out to block her path. "Jayda be yer name, ay?"

His handsome face was partially cast in shadow and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. He wore a simple black tunic with matching pants and boots. There was a curious glint in his eyes, and the way he carried himself confidently told her he was more than met the eye and not to be brushed aside or underestimated.

"I am she," Jayda replied, glancing back at Jaheira and Minsc to warn them to prepare for a potential fight. "What do you want?"

"Oh, 'tis not what _I_ want, but what I can be doing for you." He took a casual step forward. "Ye might be wantin' information about a young lass arrested by the wizards on your arrival here, ay?"

"Imoen!" Minsc gasped angrily, sliding his longsword from its place on his belt.

"Minsc," Jaheira warned even as she gripped her quarterstaff with both hands.

"You're talking about Imoen!" Jayda blurted as she rushed toward him. "What do you know?"

"Now, Imoen, aye… that be her name," he mumbled. "Young lass made the misfortune of castin' a spell or two in a city that frowns on such business."

"What do you know?" she reiterated as she grabbed fistfuls of his tunic threateningly. He calmly held his hands up in surrender, grinning down at her without an ounce of fear in his expression.

"Coo!" he howled, amused. "I knows very little meself, me Lady," he told her. "I can, however, link ye up with a group that knows. Or can be findin' out."

Warning bells chimed in the back of her head and her muscles drew up tight, momentarily shaking off weariness. Here she was, directionless, and out of the darkness comes a mysterious stranger offering answers to questions she desperately needed to ask. Her fingers uncurled from his shirt and she let him go. He casually took a step back.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Well bless me for bein' an idiot if I haven't gone and forgotten me manners," he laughed. "My name be Gaelan Bayle. Ye needn't stretch your brain thinkin', I be sure it's a name ye haven't heard." His gaze drifted across her body, from head to toe, before he proceeded. "You be a different matter," he began quietly. "You be renown enough that someone might be willin' to find this Imoen for ye, or maybe this wizard who held ye. Either way, they both went to the same place."

Jayda narrowed her gaze on him. He knew more than he pretended, of that she was sure.

"Who is this group?" Jaheira asked.

"That I cannot tell ye. Rest ye fine that they be willin' to help… and havin' enough power to challenge the Cowled Wizards. That all ye be needin' to know." He glanced around. "But this be not the best place to hold such a dialogue. I be having a place that would suit far better. It be just a short walk from here. Why don't I take you there right now?" He smirked, sensing her apprehension. "Unless ye have some reason for not wantin' to come along."

Jayda took only a second to think it over. She needed answers and he was offering. So far, he was her best lead. So she nodded.

"I'll go," she confirmed. "But if this is a trap—"

He scoffed. "I have no interest in settin' up a trap," he assured her. "It be more profitable to serve." A shallow bow was given and then he pointed down the road they had been traveling. "The Copper Coronet be straight down this road here if ye friends wish to continue on."

"What is this?" Minsc asked. "We stand with Jayda, wherever she goes."

She glanced back at her friends and nodded. "It's okay… I'll be along soon."

"Jayda, are you… sure?" Jaheira asked, hesitant.

"I'll be fine." She looked at Gaelan Bayle. "Lead on."

He bowed again, enjoying the game, and slipped into an alley she had hardly noticed before. She gave a last reassuring look to her friends and then followed him. He led her through tight alleyways, twisting and turning in a maze of streets. It was clear he intended to disorient her, but he had underestimated Jayda's past; she had done plenty of sneaking around Candlekeep in her youth, not to mention the labyrinths of Baldur's Gate and the trials to defeat her brother Sarevok she had endured. It was a strange city, but she did not allow herself to lose her bearing.

They finally arrived at a humble house tucked into a corner of the Slums. He opened the door and led the way inside, nodding to a man in the corner of the room. He scurried upstairs as Jayda took a look around. For the derelict appearance on the outside, it was well-furnished inside. She was surprised by the elegant rugs that covered the wooden floor, by the paintings and cherry furniture and iron candle fixtures.

In the light she got a better look at him. He was tall, built like a rogue—strong but slim—and had blue eyes. His black hair was unkempt and the shadow of stubble on his jaw and chin created a devilishly handsome illusion. He looked every bit a working man, but he was too clean to be pure Slum-dweller.

"Ye kept up well," he said, probably intending to compliment her, but she was almost insulted.

"I find where I need to be just fine."

"I've no doubt," Gaelan said as the other man came back.

The servant set a water bowl on Gaelan's desk and handed a rag and looking glass to Jayda, then dismissed himself. She took a look in the mirror and sighed at her own appearance. Her red hair was tangled and wild, gray eyes weary and face streaked with dried blood and black dust. So much for first impressions. If she had ever meant to be intimidating to Gaelan, she now understood why it had failed.

Jayda dipped the cloth, wrung it out, and, with the help of the mirror, began rubbing at her cheeks and forehead. Gaelan leaned against his desk and crossed his arms across his chest, watching her.

"I tell ye straight that I know a powerful group that can be helping ye. They can be findin' the wizard and the young woman both, they can. But they can be doin' far better than the tellin', me Lady, if ye catch me meanin'."

"You mean they could help get her back," she guessed, scrubbing vigorously at some of the black smudges that seemed to only want to spread. She flicked her gaze at him. "I'm listening."

"But ye should know that it requires me friends to cross the Cowled Wizards. Not something ye would be able to do on yer own. Tsk."

She gave up on her face and turned to him. "All I need is to know where she is. I can handle the rest on my own."

"Ye might think this," Gaelan said, taking the rag from her and dipping it in the water bowl once more. He rung it out and, catching her chin, gently began rubbing at her cheeks with the rag; she would have refused but was too weary to argue. "But I be tellin' it isn't true. Without my organization, there be nothing ye could do."

"All right," she began, tense, "I see where this is going. And how much is this help going to cost me?"

"A fair price, if ye think about it," he replied. "Twenty-thousand gold pieces for their help."

Jayda coughed and jerked back, gawking up at him.

"Twenty thousand?" she yelled. "Are you out of your mind? That's an outrageous sum!"

"Outrageous, is it?" he asked, not the slightest bit intimidated by her outburst. He dipped the rag again and wrung it out. "We be crossin' the Cowled Wizards for ye. I told ye it not be a thing to be done lightly." He stepped over to her and continued cleaning her face.

"Is… is there no way to lower the cost? What you spend it on—the labor… I could help, contribute. I could work—"

"Not me price to alter, me Lady," he told her quietly. "This time, I'm just the messenger."

Jayda sensed his sincerity and slumped her shoulders. "I do not have that much money… How am I supposed to raise it? I know no one in this city."

"That don't matter much, I'm happy to report. There be plenty of work in this city for someone of yer skill." He dropped the cloth into the water bowl. "Besides… ye know me."

"That's hardly comforting," she scoffed.

"It will be," Gaelan said assuredly. "Ye should try Renal Bloodscalp for some employment. He's 'round the Docks in the Shadow guild building. Tell them I sent ye…" He grinned.

"You're serious…" She nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay… I'll get the money. Tell your friends I accept. I'll be back when I have the sum."

"Aye, I'll wait for it."

She started to go but turned back to him. "I don't like this! I don't like not knowing who I'm giving such a large amount of money. I don't like that you know so much about me and my situation. And you're just… a stranger in the night… So if I find another way, I'm taking it."

"Better a stranger in the night than nothin' at all, ay?" he asked, and her silence must've told him she agreed. "Brus'll be waitin' for ye outside. He's me nephew, an' he'll show you to the Copper Coronet. Ye'll find work easily enough there, ye will."

"We'll see."

"Fare ye well, then… an' give me greetings to Lehtinan if ye happens by 'im…"

"If I do," she mumbled and reached for the door, tired and annoyed but somewhat hopeful; it was an apprehensive hope, but hope nonetheless. "Farewell."

"Remember that here is where your help is," he called and she glanced back. "Strangers are not always to be feared."

She stared hard at him and then left.

/

The Copper Coronet was a warm and inviting pit of rough-housing and ale. The main hall was a long rectangle of tables, each one overflowing with patrons, and in the center was a massive roasting pit. All kinds of meats were being turned over bright red coals. Three large, iron chandeliers spanned the room. The bar was on the far side but Jayda noticed her friends had claimed a table near the roasting pit so she made her way there.

"Good, you've arrived," Minsc began. "Another minute more and I would've torn up the Slums searching for you!"

"I'm fine," Jayda assured him as she plopped into a chair and took a swig of the drink Jaheira slid in her direction.

"This place is not a friendly one," the druid mumbled. "Be wary of who you deal with."

"Simple cutthroats and hooligans I can handle…" Jayda replied tiredly. "Bayle's going to hook us up with a group that can help us find and rescue Imoen, but it won't be cheap…"

"How much?" Jaheira asked.

"Twenty-thousand."

Her friends coughed and gaped.

"Twenty-thousand…" Jaheira gasped.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have only twenty gold," Minsc announced as he pulled some beef, laid it on a plate with potatoes and greens, and passed it to Jayda. "How will we obtain so much?"

"We're going to have to raise it," she replied. "Bayle assured me we won't have trouble finding work in Athkatla. And he threw me a name I'll look into tomorrow."

"Imoen could be dead or worse by the time we raise that much!" Jaheira protested. "Who knows what Irenicus will do to her. You saw how he bested those wizards. Do you really think the Cowled can hold him?"

"I agree, but we don't have much of a choice. We don't know where she is and this is our best lead. If something better comes along, I'm jumping, but until then… this is all we can do." Jayda pushed her fingers back through her hair and grunted in frustration. "I hate this. I hate not being able to act… I hate waiting. I hate having to rely on someone else's power… But what can I do?" She slammed her fist on the table and murmured, "Blood of Bhaal or not… I'm still just as powerless as any mortal… I cannot snap my fingers and make the things I need appear. I cannot wish myself to the places I need to be. I have no power of any use to anyone… not even the people I love."

"And that is good," Jaheira said at length. "Who knows the price such a power would come with…" Jayda only nodded. "You said Bayle threw you a name?"

"Aye," she confirmed. "Lots of secrecy around it, but I know where he sends me. To the Shadow Thieves."

"Tch," Jaheira scoffed. "I know in the past you've made a living off of your talents, but the Shadow Thieves are at war right now. It's too dangerous…" She glanced to their ranger friend. "Minsc and I can't help you with this. Besides, it's not as if they were a group we would want to be involved with were they not at war."

"Its work," Jayda reminded her. "If something better comes along, I'll take it. But you know how profitable working with thieves can be—"

"And how dangerous!" Jaheira reiterated.

"And I can take care of myself. Besides, I'm more likely to bring trouble to them at this rate. Who knows what sort of deranged wizard or godspawn will descend next?" she asked bitterly, then stabbed at her dinner.

The three friends sat in the sober quiet and ate until there was nothing left to hold back their exhaustion. They ascended to the rooms Minsc had purchased. Once alone, Jayda stripped off her armor, tossed herself onto the bed, and immediately fell asleep.


	3. Find Proof of Mae'Var's Treachery

**Act 2**

**Find Proof of Mae'var's Treachery**

Jayda inhaled deeply and stared up at the orange building in front of her, large and windowless. Even in the middle of the morning, it somehow seemed a foreboding place. Of course a shady character like Gaelan Bayle would send her to an even shadier location for work. She slowly exhaled, reminding herself she didn't have time to be picky, and drew toward the one man posted watch outside the door.

"Ay now, you there!" he began as she approached. "You a friend of Gaelan's? Me boss says yer welcome to enter, if ye likes."

Jayda tilted her head to the side and narrowed her gaze on him. One night in town and she was already labeled "friends" with Gaelan Bayle, already connected enough for strangers to know her name. It didn't surprise her. Baldur's Gate had been a similar experience. But now that she had seen it, her suspicions were confirmed.

"Thieves…" she mumbled and went inside.

The glances in her direction did not go unnoticed; she detected the eyes in the shadows watching her every step as she was noted and escorted up two flights of stairs. She was pointed around a corner and visibly left alone, but she knew they were still there, observing. Confidently, Jayda strode forward and rounded the corner.

Renal Bloodscalp was easily picked out of the crowd. Surrounded by thieves—one whom he was conversing with—he was dressed as they were, but his demeanor was self-assured. His shaven head and small, dark eyes were deceptive, but not in a sinister way. She approached and he turned to her, silently dismissing his aide, and grinned with amusement as he scanned her.

"You'll have to excuse me if you're not quite what I was expecting. From all I've been told, I expected something," he scanned her again, "grander."

She casually shrugged. "I was expecting more from the leader of the Shadow Thieves, myself."

He chuckled. "Yes, well, when you earn a name like 'Bloodscalp', you do tend to raise expectations. I assure you that I am more than I seem. I am sure the same is true of you."

They shared small, knowing grins, silently approving of one another. For the moment.

"I've been told many tales of your exploits," he continued, casually pacing in front of her. "Some bits of your activities here in Athkatla as well as… further north." He glanced at her and went on. "You must understand, naturally, that an organization like mine thrives on information above all else. He who is ignorant quickly becomes a target, and all that."

"Naturally," she agreed. "So what is it, then, that you wish from me?"

"Right to the point, eh? Refreshing. I am sick of underlings who shift from foot to foot. I find a bit of directness to be a… nice change." He strode forward and hooked an arm across her shoulders, slowly leading her away from the others. "To be short, Gaelan recommended you, and I trust his word. I am in need of a mercenary to perform a particular task. On a normal day, I would not consider it necessary to look beyond my own guild; any of my available assassins or thieves are quite capable."

She mentally noted that it was a warning. This was a world she understood and, once in her life, had enjoyed. She almost got caught up in it again, probably because she already liked Renal; his deceptive language, his hand motions as he spoke, and his friendliness—he was well-acted, but she sensed that part of his performance was true to his nature. He reminded her of someone she might've worked with in the past, when things were simple… or, at least, when she believed them to be.

"In this one instance, however, my men are limited," he continued, pulling her from her thoughts. "I need someone of skill who is not one of the Shadow Thieves… someone more or less unknown to us. Someone, I trust, like yourself." He stopped walking and eyed her intently.

"Your trust is well-placed," she told him, accepting the task. "And what is it, exactly, that you would have this outsider do?"

"Yes, the details!" he exclaimed, leading them back into the slow walk across the room. "How shall I put this? One of my guildhouses to the south is run by a rather ambitious fellow named Mae'Var. Good thief, but I never liked him. Now I know why."

"He's getting too big for himself," she guessed and Renal nodded.

"Thinking of taking my place, I suspect, but I've had no real evidence to say that this is so. Now, you're likely thinking: why not just eliminate him? Yes, yes, I suppose I could."

"But without proof of betrayal, the other guildmasters would be angry and you'd have a war on your hands," she finished for him and he stopped, withdrawing his arm as he studied her. "A war with the guildmasters would be too taxing when the Shadow Thieves are already at war with a rival guild."

"I think you and I understand one another very well, Jayda. I like your perceptiveness. You're smart. Perhaps… too smart for a thief," he mumbled suspiciously.

"Would you prefer I shuffled foot to foot?"

He grinned again. "I think I prefer this. Since you understand things so clearly, when the time comes, I feel certain you will know what to do… the _right_ thing to do. You remind me a bit of myself when I first arrived here." He cleared his throat and started walking again, leading them to a table with several items laid neatly atop it. "Where was I? Oh, yes, your part in this. I would like you to go to Mae'Var and join his guild. I will give you these papers," he picked up a thick scroll of bound parchment, "saying you are being transferred by the Shadow Master. You will spy on Mae'Var from the inside and find me the evidence I need."

"And once he is damned with proof?" she asked as she took the papers from him.

"Take care of this nuisance and eliminate Mae'Var," he replied and added bitterly, "one less headache for a busy man such as myself to be concerned with." He motioned toward the stairs and they started walking again. "You'll need to reassure Mae'Var, naturally; he won't know who you are. But I am confident that you are more than capable of this."

"Naturally," she echoed and they stopped in front of the stairs. "Now what's in it for me?"

"Ah yes, we arrive at this point eventually." He smiled. "I hear an interesting rumor that Athkatla's newest stranger is in dire straits for gold… so gold you will receive. A fair sum, I promise. Let's say… ten thousand pieces. Fair?"

Jayda reminded herself not to reveal her elation, but inside she was renewed. She didn't know how complex proving Mae'Var's treachery might be, but once done, she would be halfway to her goal. With whatever work Jaheira and Minsc found, she was sure they would be to the promised amount in no time. She made a note to remind Jaheira just how profitable thieves could be.

"Fair," she agreed casually, "depending on just how much trouble this Mae'Var proves to be."

"Well, since this is a delicate mission… ten-thousand gold pieces… for now." He studied her cautiously, thinking something Jayda had no clue at. "As for what else… we will see. You have a reputation and I wish to see if it holds true. I _have_ been looking for someone of your particular… _talents_ and _abilities_." He cleared his throat. "In the central Docks, there's a storefront called The Quiet Cretin. Show the papers to the storekeeper, Gorch, and he'll let you into the guildhouse proper."

"The Quiet Cretin, Gorch… got it."

"Work for Mae'Var as long as it takes to collect your evidence," Renal instructed her. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you to be careful, do I? No, I didn't think so." He nodded to her. "I will be waiting most eagerly to receive whatever you find."

Jayda smirked and tucked the papers into her belt. "You won't be waiting long…"

/

It was near lunch-time when Jayda located The Quiet Cretin, flashed her papers to Gorch, and was escorted to the cellar. The gossip mumbled the moment she walked in the back door revealed to Jayda that she was taking the place of someone called Lin. In the cellar, a secret door was opened for her and she was encouraged inside. And alone, she noted. She stalked past a series of cells and, at the end, was her target.

Mae'Var was hunched over a torture table, knife drawn and poised over a prone figure. Several thief guards stood at the edges of the room, far from the abuse. For a moment, Jayda recalled the torments she witnessed in Irenicus's dungeon—at the torture inflicted upon her and Imoen, at the cruelty that had murdered Dynaheir and Khalid! Her heart began to beat wildly as images of that horrible place assaulted her memory and she nearly lunged at Mae'Var then and there. But some part of her brain that retained self-control bid her to calm down, and she was able to pull her hands away from the swords on her hips and relax her breathing.

"Hello there," Mae'Var began in a low purr without even looking up from his work. "I certainly hope you've got a good reason to be bothering me," he looked up at her and she resisted recoiling from his snake-like face, "because I'm quite busy, as you can see." He looked back at this victim and sighed. "Ah, poor Lin has passed out." He gingerly laid the dagger on the table and carefully wiped his hands off on a rag. "I've a few minutes to spare then. Who are you and why shouldn't I kill you?"

The calm, soft way he spoke made her skin crawl. No wonder Renal didn't like him. Thieves were slippery and trustless enough without being so creepy. But she couldn't reveal her disgust. She had a job to do, for Imoen's sake.

"I'm the new owl," she declared, using the street term for thief. "Or do the Shadow Thieves turn on their own?"

"Ask my cousin here," he sneered, motioning to Lin. "He relied on sentiment; thought it would get him out of stealing from guild coffers. Perhaps," he purred with his glazed eyes, "but not before he's learned about crossing his betters." Mae'Var slowly approached her, his cloudy gaze locked on hers; he picked up a clean dagger from a nearby table. "Perhaps you'd suggest a kinder, gentler punishment for my kin? Or perhaps I should introduce you to the rack instead," he mumbled as he turned a full circle around her, "so we might determine your true kinship."

Jayda hardened her expression as he came to stand in front of her, his face inches away; she could smell his foul breath and the blood on his tunic. Scars marred the right side of his head, creeping onto his face, and she wondered what had happened to him. His thin lips twitched as his eyes shifted back and forth between her gray orbs. He was trying to read her. In a moment, a grin slithered across Mae'Var's lips.

"Or perhaps not," he whispered. "Scared you, did I? Fear will keep you honest. You don't want to end up like Lin here," he motioned with his head toward his cousin, "with me having to test your honesty. Difficult to do with certainty."

"Better he die an honest man," Jayda murmured, "than to live a liar and endanger us all."

Mae'Var's grin widened and his head tilted to the side, leading the rest of his body away from her. She was relieved.

"Such thoughts are akin to my own," he told her, "but I will hold you no closer knowing you are as cold as I. Instead, a simple task to test your worth and pad our coffers." As he strode a full, slow circle around Lin, idly staring down at his unconscious cousin, he tapped the knifeblade on the tips of his fingers. "I suppose I should make the task something you wouldn't balk at completely. How about a little petty larceny amid the stuffed robes over at the Talos temple? I require…" He paused to think and used the blade to tap at his chin. Suddenly, a thought came to him and his serpent-like eyes lit up with intrigue. "The amulet worn by the Weathermistress… Yes, it looked lovely on her," he purred and the sensuality in his tone almost made her shiver. "I've a beautiful sheltie-spaniel cross that it will adorn just as well. Now, get moving!" he barked, coming out of his reverie. "I've told you the mark, you do the rest! Do not bother me again until you've done so!"

Jayda dipped into a shallow bow of acceptance and quickly evacuated the cellar; her stomach clenched as she heard Lin groan, knowing more torture was soon at hand. She took the steps in twos until she reached the top, then left the building as quickly as she could without rousing suspicion.

/

The night once again filled the Copper Coronet and Jayda had to squeeze past several large groups of slum-dwellers to get to the table Jaheira and Minsc had claimed. As she plopped down, Jaheira sat up straight.

"Good, you are here," the druid began, tongue rolling with her exotic accent. "How went your day?"

She shrugged. "Productive. And yours?" She looked to both her friends.

"I tried contacting the Hapers of Athkatla, but no word yet. Minsc has found some dockwork, but it pulls in very little, I'm afraid. I put out feelers for some of my old contacts. In a few days, we shall see if any of them remain in Amn and if they have work for us."

"I do not like this waiting around," Minsc declared. "We should be out there searching for this evil wizard and Imoen! We will turn over every stone if we have to and then this Irenicus will know our righteous fury!" He slammed his palm onto the table and it shook violently under his strength; their dishes clanked together, provoking a few stares in their direction. "Live by the sword, live a good, long life!"

"You know I agree," Jayda said, quickly trying to calm him, "but turning over every pebble and stone could prove just as lengthy an endeavor as earning the coin."

"That… makes sense," he conceded. "I still say action is required of us."

"Cheer up," she encouraged them. "We'll be halfway to our goal in no time."

"Oh?" Jaheira asked with a small smile. "And what makes you so sure?"

"That contact gave me a job, and that job pays well." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Ten-thousand…"

Minsc gasped.

"By Silvanus," Jaheira murmured, and Jayda couldn't tell if she was angry or pleased. "You're working with the Shadow Thieves, then? And what is it they have you doing?"

"It's best you don't know."

"Tch," she hissed, clearly disapproving. "While I do not agree with Minsc that we are a righteous force for good and justice, this is too much. I do not like it."

"So we do the bidding of thieves now?" Minsc groaned and patted his stomach, looking uncomfortable. "Ehhh… this churns my belly like a hamster endlessly running on a wheel."

"We do nothing," Jayda reminded them. "_I_ do, now eat and put it out of mind. This is for Imoen. Every moment we delay is another moment her life is in danger."

They silently agreed and talked of other things until Jayda ran out of water and excused herself. She made her way to the bar and claimed an empty spot, motioning Bernard over. When he leaned toward her, she requested more water, and he nodded with promise to get it as soon as he had a moment.

As she waited, a figure suddenly appeared next to her. She looked up into the smirking face of Gaelan Bayle.

"Coo! Evenin', me Lady," he began. "Ye clean up well, if ye don't mind me sayin' so."

"I wish I could say the same for you," she countered. He put his hand to his chest as though she had wounded him.

"If I'd tried, I might've. Only then, what kind of respectable person might I be mistaken for, ay? Not a good thing, I think; not 'round these parts, anyway." He nodded to her, and she could tell he was resisting a smile; she was also smiling, on the verge of laughter. "An' just ye remember who cleaned the mud off ye face."

"Who asked you?" she joked. "And you? Respectable? In what realm could that mistake be made?"

"Aye," he agreed, nodding. "Not truer words be spoken if I'd said 'em meself. But let's not confuse it with _respected_, ay?" He tapped the bar and motioned to a nearby mug. "Can I buy ye a drink?"

"Not tonight," she replied. "Tonight, I'm working."

"Aahh, so ye met with Renal, ay? Good man, he is. I told ye that ye'd find work easily enough, didn't I?"

"Speaking of that, I suppose I owe you my thanks." She remembered him telling her that soon it would be a comfort that she knew him. "Though I didn't realize we were friends, your name has opened a number of doors for me."

"Now usually I don't like being the one to say 'I told ye so'," he began rather smugly, "but in this case, I won't mind it so much."

"That's big of you."

"What can I say?" he asked as Bernard brought Jayda's water and an ale for Gaelan. As he took his drink, he said, "that just be the kind of guy I am." He raised his mug to her and disappeared into the crowd.

Jayda rolled her eyes as she took her drink and retreated back to her table. Somehow, his witty banter had lifted her spirits after meeting such an offensive character like Mae'Var. Deep down, she wished she had more enjoyable men to interact with at work—like Gaelan and Renal. Of course, that would mean she would have to put down someone she liked. Perhaps, she realized, it was a good thing Mae'Var was such an unlikeable sort.

"What kept you?" Jaheira asked as Jayda sat back down.

"Nothing," she replied. "Nothing at all."

/

The Temple district was utterly silent at that time of night. A crescent moon hung lazily in the sky, mostly hidden behind wisps of dark clouds. The City Guard were peppered throughout the streets but Jayda found it easy maneuvering as she slunk from one shadow to the next, silently making her way to the Temple of Talos. The building was easy to spot with its domed tower and the two electric spheres floating over the water to either side of the bridge entrance.

As she waited for the guards to grow bored, she crept around the city and scoped out all the entrances. So far, there was the front door. She did notice a balcony hover over the river and, as she was studying the wall to get a better look, she heard strange crooning. Glancing back, Jayda caught movement in the darkness and heard strange mumbling. She stilled to listen and focused on the hunched form rocking back and forth in the alley. She realized she was hearing a strange poem.

"Pretty, pretty walks the night. Pretty, pretty fears the light. Pretty, pretty has no soul. Pretty, pretty black as coal. Step in shadow, left a husk, killed in moments after dusk. Step in shadow you are prey, pray you live to see the day. Sleep the street and see the dark, death becomes a lyric lark. Walk in Shadow as the guild, see the war that leaves them killed." The voice croaked and whispered eerily, as though in a trance. "See the flow from wound and neck! Was that your friend? Well best you check! Members gone and guild will fail! Best you fight the tooth and nail! Run you can't, the war will find! To haunt your dreams and haunt your mind! Watch your friends and watch the death! Watch their eyes and hold your breath!" The frantic, terrified Foole came spilling out of the alleyway, looking wildly around. The poor, tormented creature locked eyes with Jayda, even as she was hidden in the shadows. "Join or die! You cannot flee! Watch the death..." he whispered, "in front of me… in front of… me…" Then, his eyes grew wide and he visibly trembled. "Run you can't! The war will find! Run you can't! The war will find! AHHHHhahahahahahaha!"

Jayda watched, unnerved, as the Foole flew away down the street. She had to take several breaths to steady her heartbeat. Suddenly, a grumble of thunder sounded nearby and she knew her window to act was closing. She waited until the patrolling Storm Knight passed and darted from her hiding place; she flipped over the railing and caught herself on the jutting ledge. She paused and listened but heard nothing, so she dug her boots into the weathered mortar between stones and inched toward the globe, waiting for the Knight to pass back, and lunged for the iron ring that supported the sphere.

With quiet grunts, she shimmied around the side of it and dropped down onto the exposed roof of the submerged tunnel that connected the sphere and temple. She scurried along the top, careful not to slip even an inch into the water. More thunder rumbled angrily as she leapt up onto the wall and scaled it just beneath the bright-burning windows, which provided her a deeper darkness to hide in. She switched walls and shimmied toward the balcony.

Her foot slipped on one of the loose bricks and she dropped two feet, catching herself only inches above water. With a rapidly beating heart, she waited and listened. Nothing… Nothing but more thunder and a flash of lightning. Jayda bit her lower lip and forced herself to move. Even if a guard was watching, she had little choice but to go; her fingers were tired and wouldn't hold her much longer and she would be sure to attract attention if she plopped into the river.

She made it to the balcony, slipped over it undetected, and ducked inside the unlocked door. The patter of the evening's first raindrops on the window made her sigh in relief. Inside, she heard the loud cranking of the Storm Lord's weather vane and wondered how anyone could possibly sleep in the Temple. She surveyed the room she occupied and noted a sleeping woman curled up on the bed.

"Mask, I'm good," Jayda whispered to herself, sneaking over to the chest near the bed. She slipped some thieves' tools from her belt and picked the lock on the small trunk. No necklace. She made her way around the room, quietly investigating drawers. Finally, the Necklace of Talos—in all of its heavy and glittering glory—was discovered. She quickly pocketed the extravagant piece, secured it into a pouch on her belt, and ducked out of the room.

Outside, the rain had quickly begun to pour. With the noisy crash of the droplets into the water surrounding the Temple and the howling of the wind, Jayda knew her actions would be masked. So she hopped over the balcony and plunged straight into the pool below.


	4. Old Friends and New

**Old Friends and New**

Early the next morning, Jayda returned to The Quiet Cretin to turn over the necklace to Mae'Var. Upon arriving, she was ushered to a back room where he was eating breakfast and reading the morning Crier post. She held up the necklace and grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He did not slither a smile when he saw it and she thought she detected a bit of disappointment in his expression.

"Well, you're back at last," he purred, eyeing her over the top of his parchment. "I'll cancel the order to kill you then. You have a few skills we might find useful after all." He folded up the post and stood up, motioning for her to come closer. "Now, let's have a look at that amulet."

She shrugged and walked close enough to toss it to him. He caught it and studied it with feigned interest.

"It's a mystery how they walk with a dinner plate around their necks," he mused and then dropped it onto his breakfast table, earning a pair of raised brows from Jayda. "I'll file it away with the rest of the garbage sent to Calimshan. They like jewelry big, I hear. Now," he narrowed his gaze on her, "let's put you to some real work. I haven't the time to piddle around with you, so my right-hand man will keep you busy until you can work for me personally."

He eyed her in a way that made her extremely uncomfortable and then waved his hand dismissively. Jayda glared when she put her back to him, annoyed at his creepy and haughty personality.

"Hey, you," she said, calling out the nearest Shadow Thief who was slicing up an apple.

"Zyntris be my name," he told her with a scowl, "and I'm the best cutpurse this guildhouse has, I am. If you try muscling in on my job, I'll knife you!" He pointed his sharpened dagger at her to emphasize his point.

"No purses to cut today," she said casually. "Looking for Mae'Var's right hand. Seen him?"

"Ah, the wizard… Two flights up, bad attitude, flaming red robe. Can't miss him," he replied and went back to carving on his apple.

She climbed the stairs, crossed a hall of doors—most of which were not doors at all, but safes—and climbed another flight. The red-robed wizard had her back to her and was enjoying a cup of tea amid a luxurious spread of cheese and fruit and a fluffy sprawl of pillows.

"Mae'Var says I report to you now," she declared, noting with a bit of satisfaction that he jumped at the sound of her voice.

He suddenly leapt to his feet and whirled around, wide and angry eyes glaring at her. Recognition flickered between them and Jayda's jaw dropped. Curse of the Nine Hells, what twisted fate had led her to cross paths with the Red Wizard Edwin Odesseiron.

"You!" he hissed.

"You!" she growled back. "Shouldn't you be dead?"

Edwin snapped himself straight and delicately brushed his hair back, avoiding tugging on any of his face jewelry. Once composed, he idly examined his hands.

"Death is nothing more than a momentary inconvenience for one such as I," he replied coolly. "My ultimate mission is too important to suffer distraction from simpletons." He glared at her. "Although you did nearly kill me!" Then, he looked back down at his hands, brows pinned back, and expression calm. "The past hardly matters," he murmured, tongue rolling with his exotic accent.

"You have a selective memory, Thayvian," Jayda taunted him. "Why do you now work with Shadow Thieves, and what is your connection to our capture by Irenicus, hm?"

"My association with the Shadow Thieves has been accomplished for reasons of my own, none of which has anything to do with you… and as for answers to your capture, well, you must go much higher than I to be satisfied."

"Well that isn't hard…"

"Do not mock me, simpleton!" he growled. "You joined Mae'Var's guild and you work for him, which means you now work for me! I do not know your motive for being here but would you spoil your plans so soon?" He grunted, disgusted. "Enough of this drivel. Let's get this over with."

"I can't wait," Jayda muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her hip against the nearest table.

"Hear me," he began. "It seems my prowess as a mage has captured the eye of the Cowled Wizards. I'm certain they are envious, though their actions are not fitting tribute."

Jayda rolled her eyes, but was intrigued none-the-less. Any information on the Cowled Wizards could possibly help her get to Imoen faster.

"They have dispatched an agent to investigate my activities," he continued, "something I don't appreciate. This insult must be punished by killing the Cowled agent."

"Killing?" Jayda echoed, annoyed.

"Ah—question him beforehand, if you like." He waved his hand. "Any insight into the Cowled Wizards is useful. A little torture would soften him."

"Murder? Torture? What are you, Edwin? I knew you were a twisted sort, but you've spent too much time with Mae'Var. You're starting to sound like him."

He held his chin high. "You object?" He motioned to the door. "Perhaps we should call Mae'Var."

"Don't get your robe twisted, Thayvian, I'll do it, but not without complaint." She snapped at him. "Give me the name."

"I demand an apology for this outrage!" he exclaimed. "Snapped at and disrespected like a common hireling." He waited but she only glared at him. "Rayic Gethras is his name," Edwin told her. "His house is a gray three-story behind a fence along the westward wall of the Docks district. If he is home, his door will be open. Well, what are you waiting for? Go!"

"I'm going…" she muttered and turned.

"Good! Don't linger about then, get going!" he yelled at her back, shooing her dismissively. Then, to himself, he muttered, "ugh, motivating these sloths is like pulling teeth."

Jayda's muscles tightened and she paused, threads of self-control away from turning and giving that wizard a good beating like he deserved. With deep breaths, she calmly reminded herself to think of Imoen and her ultimate goal. With that, she managed to find her way out of the guildhouse.

/

Jayda slammed her fist on the table, upsetting the gathered party's glasses and plates. Jaheira jumped at the loud noise and Minsc was momentarily frozen, his spoon halfway to his mouth.

"That no good, wirery, uppity, son of a slave-herder! That half-brained Red Wizard! I'll cut out his little Thayvian eyes!" she screamed, hands twisting together as she imagined strangling Edwin.

It had been days since she had been put under Edwin's command, and he had found all sorts of frustrating uses of her time.

"Kill him, steal that, Jayda do this, Jayda do that!" she mimicked Edwin's Thayan accent. "I'm at my wits end with him! I'm going to beat him until his skin matches the color of that flashy robe he flaunts! I'll twist it up to his scrawny neck and choke him on it!" She slammed her fist again. "Rip out each little stupid ring from his face and—"

"Even I support that foul wizard's butt-kicking, but Boo agrees that this does not sound like justice. It sounds like torture," Minsc said.

Jayda motioned with her index finger and thumb. "Maybe a little…"

"Get a grip on yourself," Jaheira chastised her. "It was unfortunate that Edwin has interfered with our plans, but it was you who said working with the Shadow Thieves was our best bet to earn coin enough to rescue Imoen."

Jayda made a face, wanting to retaliate but finding nothing to say. She sighed in exasperation and pushed away from the table.

"I'm going to get some air," she told them and did not wait for them to protest.

Jayda pushed through the crowd toward the exit but was momentarily stunned when she collided with a breastplate and strong arms grabbed her elbows to steady her. She looked up into the face of a handsome man, his hair brown, eyes blue, and beard kempt. He was far too pretty to be a Slum-dweller, and his armor too shiny for him to be a traveler.

His eyes seemed to light up when he looked upon her and he gently whisked her away from the pushy drunks.

"Fair lady," he began softly. "What brings _you_ to this cesspool of corruption?"

Jayda had to take a moment to reflect on that. She hadn't really heard anyone comment in that way—not anyone who wasn't of noble birth. And then she wondered why she seemed to stand out from the other Slum-dwellers. Clearing her throat, she glanced around.

"I'm… staying in Amn for awhile and… well, I was directed here," she admitted with some difficulty, trying to find the right phrasing. She cursed herself for sounding like an idiot.

"I am Anomen, warrior priest of Torm," he told her. "What is your name?"

"Jayda," she replied and noticed he waited for a title to follow. "Just… Jayda." She cleared her throat again and moved toward the door.

Anomen followed. Outside, she inhaled fresh air—as fresh as it could be in the Slums—and felt his eyes on her. She glanced in his direction and felt her face grow hot. Why was he looking at her like that?

"What brings you here?" she asked, motioning to his armor. "A bit shiny for the Slums, isn't it?"

He glanced at his armor, embarrassed, and chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is. Truly, I seek to be knighted in the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart and I must prove my worth." He glanced at the inn. "I've been looking for worthy companions and great adventure, but so far… I have found neither."

"You came to the Slums for adventure?"

"Perhaps it sounds silly, but I could think of no better place to look. The nobles only sport against themselves and merchants only require escorts for their caravans."

"Is there no honor in that?"

"Not honor that I would seek, not for the Order." He lifted his brows curiously. "And what of you, fair lady?"

"I'm… trying to rescue an old friend," she confessed. "She was taken from me… and I won't rest until I get her back."

"Truly?" he asked. "It sounds like a worthy cause to pursue. Have you need of a strong sword?"

"Not yet." She glanced at him and smiled, noting he carried a mace, not a sword. She shook her head. "But someday, I might, Anomen, warrior priest of Torm."

He smiled hopefully and came to stand next to her. They watched the sky for several silent beats. The starts glittered overhead and the moon was already beginning to wax.

"Who is this friend that you speak of?" Anomen asked quietly.

"Imoen," Jayda replied. "We've been friends since I can remember. She's almost… like a sister to me. We grew up together back in Candlekeep, a short-ways south of Baldur's Gate."

"What happened?"

She eyed him. "She followed me… She was always following after me. Daft girl. She should have stayed at home."

There was a moment when even the tavern's racket seemed to fade away and Jayda remembered all that she and Imoen had endured, from losing Gorion to defeating Sarevok. And she remembered in the final moments of that last battle that she had truly believed it was over. She had foolishly believed that she and Imoen were free.

Anomen's touch on her shoulder drew her out of her thoughts with a start, but he did not seem to notice.

"Come, then, my new friend!" he began with a smile. "Let us strive to find this Imoen of yours and challenge all the dangers that bar our way."

They laughed together at his idea, and when they went back inside, Anomen joined her table.

/

Gaelan noted the shiny knight's addition to Jayda's table as he passed through the Copper Coronet, going from one "business meeting" to the next. He paused to watch her laugh at something the boy said and he shook his head then pressed on.

A boy like that would never win her over, he decided. She was smart, witty, clever, and tough. He knew it from the rumors he'd heard, from the words passed down by his superiors, and from watching her interactions in Athkatla. That was, perhaps, his latest favorite part of his job.

When Gaelan was first assigned to be Jayda's handler, he nearly begrudged the task. He'd put a boot in his mouth for it if he could. She was the liveliest and most interesting client he'd ever had to deal with. Not to mention, he did enjoy looking at her. She had ample cleavage, a firm arse, some curve to the waist. She had a beautiful face in an exotic kind of way. Her half-elven heritage added to her charm.

Then there was that red hair that matched her fiery personality. She was a vision of Sune herself. Oh, how he wanted to tussle with a fighter like that. A boy like the one who sat with her would be good for romance and poetry. But Gaelan was a man, and what a man he was. He'd show her a thing or two about—

Gaelan cleared his throat as he arrived to his intended location. He had to stop thinking about things like that or he'd give an awkward impression when his appointment noticed his excitement. He stopped fantasizing about things that would never be and put Jayda out of his mind, forcing himself to focus on a much less interesting topic.


	5. The Skinner Murders

**The Skinner Murders**

Jayda slowly opened her eyes and found the sky dark, the air… void. She stood on red, dried up earth and large holes sunk into universe and a starry void spanned endlessly underneath. From out of the haze, a familiar figure stepped forth. Imoen did not smile, and Jayda found her elation at seeing her friend alive and well was smothered by this place.

"A dream," Imoen began distantly. "A dream of many things, of friends and family. These things always mean something…" She looked at Jayda. "Don't they?"

Imoen turned and began walking away. Jayda followed her—of her own free will or because she was being made to follow her, she wasn't sure. But they soon came to the ghost of a place she hadn't seen in so long. The bridge was worn and dusty; the gate opened up into more blackness, and ghostly lights burned in place of the torches.

This was Candlekeep.

"Do you remember these doors?" Imoen asked. "I remember… I think… Yes, this was my home for so long, but it is too late to go back." She turned to stare at Jayda. "They wouldn't have you now. They wouldn't have me. Had no use…"

The truth and finality struck her to the core. She had known it—they all had. That's why when they left Baldur's Gate, they did not return home. They took the long route away from Candlekeep. They were no better than exiles. It was painful.

"Someone else does," Imoen continued. "He wants something. I… I don't know why. Those in the cowls don't even know." She suddenly looked stressed. "Why don't I know?"

Jayda wanted to answer her, but there was nothing to say. Imoen, frustrated, pushed past her and led Jayda down the bridge and down the road, to the edge of Candlekeep. Just outside the wall, three figures appeared through the red haze. She saw Dynaheir… Khalid… and between them was Gorion. Her heart both ached and leapt for joy. She tried to call out to him but had no voice to speak with.

"Do you remember Gorion? Or the others?" Imoen asked. "I think I do. They were… no… wait…" She sounded hopeful. "They were the guidance, and there was much more to learn," and then her tone became dark, "but it is too late now. They are so far away…" Imoen's hollow voice was directed at Jayda, and snippets of pleas slipped through her accusing tone. "You are far away… Too far away to help… Why?" She shook her head, lifted her hands to grasp at her mind. "Memories should stay… but he digs deeper… pushes everything aside…" Her gaze suddenly lifted and coldly observed Gorion and the others. "I don't remember any of you."

The dead ones lurched and gasped, suddenly falling over, and their souls fled their bodies. Jayda felt the horror and heartbreak all over again. She screamed, reached out, tried to catch Gorion, but he vanished as he fell. Jayda hit the dirt where he would have lain, but the sudden jolt brought her back to her senses, and she found she had been led somewhere else.

Before her stood Sarevok.

"Do you remember Sarevok? Or any others?" Imoen asked. "I… I don't know… They sought your death, and mine. They seemed so important at the time, but I… I don't remember them at all. Something else is… Something else is more dangerous… Closer… I can feel it."

A loud roar and scream shook her to the core and it didn't take long for her to realize the noise was coming from Sarevok. He bristled and jerked until his soul was ripped from his body and his flesh burst into nothingness.

"Do you remember me?" Imoen asked, and Jayda feared what was coming next. "I… I can almost see… I want to, but I… too late." Her eyes glazed over with fear and sorrow.

"Imoen…" Jayda began, finding her voice.

"You will come too late."

"Imoen!" she cried, lunging toward her friend.

Suddenly, a whirl of light shot up from beneath Imoen's feet, paralyzing her, and Jayda was stopped in her tracks.

"She resists," a new voice said, and Jayda's blood ran cold. "She clings to her old life as though it actually matters. She will learn."

Jayda fixed a cold glare on Irenicus as he approached out of the red haze and stood before her.

"What is this place?" she asked. "What is this all about?"

"It is a portrait of what has happened, and what may happen," he explained tiredly, as though having to do so was exhausting. "Do you cling to the past, or can you see through the pain? You feel the potential within, don't you? Will you cringe from what you know you want, what you can take as your own?" He stared accusingly at her. "You know what you want. It is you, after all, which has brought us to the dream."

Jayda sucked in a breath, somehow knowing he spoke the truth. She felt a warning in her heart, but there was no time for questions.

"Nothing is real…" he whispered, "yet…"

Imoen's loud scream was jarring but Jayda had no time to act. She felt the ground trembling beneath her feet as the pressure on her own body pressed in. She screamed, too, and felt the world go white around her.

/

"Are you all right"? Jaheira asked as they strolled through Athkatla.

Minsc and Anomen lingered behind, talking weapons and shields; the little wingless avariel, Aerie, whom they had rescued from a circus gone wrong, followed Jayda timidly.

"She's right," Aerie said in a small voice. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," Jayda replied, squinting in the light. Today, it seemed brighter than usual.

"You're sweating," the druid remarked. "And you are pale."

"I'm always pale," she reminded her.

"Do not sass me. You know what I speak of. Tell me what is wrong."

Jayda turned to face her friend, brow creased and cold sweat dribbling down the side of her face. She swiped at her forehead and planted her hands on her hips, trying to find the right way to explain it. Jaheira's concerned, green gaze held a determined strength, and it only made Jayda's heart ache as she remembered Khalid's death in her dream. She admired Jaheira's resolve and strength; the druid had been forced to overcome intense grief in a short period of time, and yet she had done so for the sake of the group and of finding Imoen. For Jayda's sake and her vow to protect Gorion's ward.

"I didn't sleep well," she finally said, and kept walking.

"Ward of Gorion," Jaheira hissed, often using that title when she was aggravated. Because Jayda had no last name, Jaheira found it sometimes challenging to scold her. "What fool do you take me for?"

But before anymore could be said on the matter, they crossed into the Bridge district and were stopped by a man in full armor.

"Greetings, citizens. I trust you'll be keeping your weapons at your sides," he began, prompting them to look down at their load: short swords, quarterstaffs, a two-hander, and a mace. "I should hate to have to run you by the garrison if anything should happen."

"What are you implying, good sir?" Anomen asked. "Surely there are more important things for you to worry about than me and my companions here."

"Without question," the soldier agreed, "but I'm making it my business to warn everybody on the street tonight. With all your gear, you might look a rich target to the wrong person."

"Heroes of goodness need no warning!" Minsc exclaimed. "Where we tread, evil trembles in our wake!"

"Lieutenant Aegisfield," he introduced himself. "I'm warning everyone, so as to get the word out that there are guards on the streets," he explained. "We've had a… a string of killings, and I don't want any more happening."

Jayda shifted her weight, frowning, as she suddenly became interested. The rest of her companions did not seem as curious.

"What, a couple of fools die in a bar fight or something?" Anomen asked, somewhat haughtily.

"Bandits or such, no doubt," Jaheira corrected him. "We have had our fair share of attacks as well."

"Bandits I can understand," the lieutenant said. "They are easy enough to figure out. What's happening here is… it's murder, but not like I've ever seen."

"What do you mean?" Jayda asked.

"There's a disgustingly sick person out there and I simply don't have the manpower to protect everyone," he replied, frustrated. She saw the strain in his brow and the creases of worry in his face. Even as he spoke, his bafflement over the situation was evident in his tone. "He's been killing paupers, sometimes in the alley where they sleep."

"Why would someone prey on the poor?" Aerie asked. "What could they have to take?"

"_Nothing_," Aegisfield emphasized, "they have _nothing_ to take. He kills them and that is all. Not only is it pointless, but he does it in as painful a way as possible. It's… it's sick." He was starting to show his strain by the way he became progressively more upset. "He flays them… alive. There has been blood all over the area. Little Faraji, a local urchin, found the latest victim." He pursed his lips. "I hate to think of a child seeing that…"

"That sounds… horrid," Aerie whimpered. "I can't imagine anything so awful! Why would someone want to do such a thing?"

"Lieutenant," Jayda intercepted the conversation, "if we find anything… we'll be sure to let you know."

"Aye," he nodded, "but don't go looking for trouble. I have enough problems with walkers and beggars. Old Rampah was damn near killed, and a street woman in the area—Rose—was plain lucky. Don't be like them."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "We can take care of ourselves."

"You look it," he finally said. "I must go about my rounds. Good day and… be safe."

And the lieutenant shuffled off. As the group descended further into the district, they caught a glimpse of the recent murder site. It was mostly blocked off by guards and a throng of people amassed around them.

"I tell you it's only going to get worse," one of the peasants cried. "And you can't tell who they are by looking at them."

"This one here was in my tavern just last night," an innkeeper said somberly.

"Hush up, you," a crone snapped. "He was a man like any other. Just because he was in with that Shadow Thief crowd doesn't mean you should refuse to serve him."

"Got his own trouble anyway, without you helping," the peasant noted. "Have to refuse half the city if you bar Shadow Thieves. Probably end up dead, too."

"They don't scare me," the innkeeper told the group. "Look at this bunch. Dead as they can get, and their black little hoods didn't help them one bit."

"What killed them was a lot more than you could handle," the crone told him. "Look… look at the marks on them."

Jayda drew nearer, wanting to see for herself just what the group was discussing. She lifted her arm when the others started to follow, silently warning them to stay back. She knew Jaheira and Minsc could stomach such a sight, but Anomen? Perhaps. Aerie? Definitely not.

"If this is a guild war like they say, it's just going to get worse!" the peasant moaned.

"Yeah, yeah, you said that already," the innkeeper mumbled, waving him off. He seemed to give it consideration, though, and finally added, "Maybe… maybe I should close up shop for a few tenday. I could use a break."

Jayda pushed through the crowd and peered down at the flayed corpses, feeling an ounce of nausea in her gut. Her cold sweat worsened and that coupled with the sickening sight and the glaring heat made her feel utterly ill.

"Bah, you close up when someone spills salt or forgets to knock on wood, you old worrywart," the crone crooned. "Business as usual for me."

"We'll see," the innkeeper said as the group started to shuffle on. "Guild wars just mean trouble. Lots of trouble."

There was no doubt about that, Jayda thought. And while she didn't relish spending her day off from Edwin's taxing agenda doing more work, she felt compelled to assist Aegisfield in whatever way she could. Perhaps, she could do nothing to help, but she had to try. So she turned to her friends.

"Minsc, Anomen—find Old Rampah and see what he knows. Aegisfield said he was nearly killed… Maybe he saw something. The rest of us will visit the street walker… Hopefully between the five of us, we can catch a lead."

"Are you sure about this?" Aerie asked, intimidated by the idea of interfering in such a grisly matter. "It really isn't any of our business, is it?"

"Perhaps this task is best left up to the local guard," Anomen agreed, though doubtful for the same reasons as Aerie.

Jaheira and Minsc chuckled together, prompting a hard stare from Anomen and a doe-eyed gaze from Aerie.

"They'll learn soon enough," Jaheira told Jayda as she began moving down the street.

"Butt-kicking! For goodness!" Minsc declared, going off in another direction.

Jayda just shook her head and smiled, following Jaheira. Aerie scurried after the women and Anomen, reluctantly, took the path Minsc had gone.

/

It took nearly all afternoon to locate Rose, but the girls finally found her and several other streetwalkers gathered near the Five Flagons Inn. Jayda tapped her shoulder and the orange-haired woman turned with a smile. When she saw Jayda, though, her smile became a disappointed frown.

"Oh, honey, I'm not walking the right side of the street for what you want," Rose told her. "I can point you in the right direction, though. What are you looking for?"

"I'm just looking for some information," Jayda replied, her clammy skin feeling momentarily warm from the misunderstanding.

"Information costs just like anything else," Rose said, turning to face her with her palm out. "If you've got the coin, I'll chit chat as long as you like. Twenty gold to your tastes? We'll have a nice, long talk."

Begrudgingly, Jayda counted out the pieces and passed it to the wench. She squealed with delight and tucked the coins into her purse.

"Talk all you want then!" she chimed. "I'll be your sympathetic ear. What's on baby's mind?"

"Ah…" She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. "I want to know what you saw when the last person was murdered. Lieutenant Aegisfield seemed to think you witnessed something."

"Tch, that Aegisfield talks too much," she pouted. "I told him what I saw, which was nothing. A man in a hood… that's all I saw. He ran by me, and was gone. Didn't know the poor sod that died." She chewed her bottom lip. "Well… there was something. A smell… besides the blood, I mean. I think I smelled guril berries. Guril berries, or something like it."

"Guril berries," Jayda repeated. "What are they used for?"

She shrugged. "I don't recall. The guards didn't seem to think the information was important. They just laughed."

Jayda glanced back at Jaheira and Aerie then turned back to Rose. "Do you think you'd recognize it if you smelled it again?"

"I might," she replied and pointed across the square to a hefty merchant. "Talk to that merchant, Bel. He might know what smells like guril berries."

"Thank you," Jayda said with a polite nod. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She started to go then stopped. "You won't—"

"I'll be waiting," Rose assured her. "You bought your time."

"Thank you," Jayda said again and hurried across the market.

"Ho there!" Bel began cheerily. "What can I do for your today. You seem a bit agitated, a bit stressed. You've completely lost your color." He reached out to check her temperature so quickly that Jayda leaned back as a reflex only after he'd gotten a feel of her forehead. "And your feverish," he declared with a gasp. "I've got just the thing to fix you up!"

He turned to his store and began digging through his wares.

"That's quite all right," Jayda interrupted him, doing her best not to glare. Even as she said it, Jaheira smacked her on the arm. "Ouch…" she mumbled, throwing her friend a look. "Aish…" She frowned at the merchant, rubbing her arm. "What do you have that smells like guril berries?"

"Locally?" he asked as he came up from his stock with an elixir. "Well, let me think. I know of three things with that smell. Guril berries are one, and the bark of the oak is similar. And solik berries, too." He held out the bottle. "Are you sure I can't interest you in this? It'll clear your ailments right up!"

"No, thanks, I'm fine—" Jaheira smacked her again in the same spot. "Ow!"

"And what would these things be used for?" the druid asked the merchant, then added, "locally."

"Well, I do a brisk business in guril berries. They are used in folk remedies," he explained, then smiled at Jayda. "There's guril berry in this mix, here, in fact!"

Jayda ducked as Jaheira swung at her again.

"They're also turned into topical salves for, ahem, intimate afflictions," Bel continued, seeming unbothered by the hostility between the two women. "Oak bark is used to make tannin, I believe. Natural curative agent for working with skins. Been in use for centuries! Oh, there's a tanner, Rejiek Hidesman, who has his shop near here." He pointed down the road. "He might have some tannin. Might be worth it to ask him."

"And solik berries?" Aerie asked, wanting to participate.

"Solik berries," he said, "are used in a local bakery, for their signature mumbleberry pie. Very tasty, but they are closed now." He leaned forward and whispered, "it _is_ the berry's off-season." He smiled. "I have some of each if you wish. Free of charge, because it's been a slow day."

"We appreciate it," Jayda told him.

Bel turned and packaged up the supplies then passed it to Jayda. Before they could depart, he made a pouty face.

"Are you sure you don't want this elixir? Really, you look awful."

"No," she insisted. "I'll be fine."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself…"

As the group turned away, Jaheira smacked Jayda again, provoking another yelp so loud that half the market turned to stare. Aerie cringed.

"Aish…" Jayda mumbled, embarrassed, and they made their way back to Rose.

"Ah, back again?" Rose said as soon as she saw them. "This has to be the weirdest question I've ever asked a customer before, but… do you have what you wanted me to, er, smell?"

"Yes," Jayda replied, unfolding the package. "We've got three things for you to smell." She passed Rose the guril berries first.

"Hmm, oh," the wench breathed. "Uhm, I've just remembered why I knew it smelled like guril berries. Ehh, that was not what the man smelled like." She flushed, embarrassed—Jayda imagined—for the first time in a long time by her trade. "Aw, no wonder the guards were laughing. Bastards… Never mind! Next."

Jayda handed her the solik berries and she smiled as she inhaled.

"Mmm, solik berries," she mumbled pleasantly. "Mumbleberry pie, right? That's not the smell though. Good thing, too," she added as she plopped one of the berries in her mouth. "I'd hate to think of the murders every time I smelled a pie." She finished the berries. "Next."

"Here you go," Jayda said and handed over the package. Rose took a good whiff and frowned.

"Hmm," she grunted darkly, "that's the one. This… tree bark… stuff? It was stronger smelling on him though. This is the same, but it's faint. What would make him smell like this?" she asked as she passed the package back to Jayda, eager to get rid of it.

"Its oak bark," Aerie chimed in helpfully. "It's used to make tannin, for making leather."

"So he might have worked with leather," Jaheira stated thoughtfully. "Odd, is it not?"

"What isn't odd about this?" Jayda wanted to know and her druid friend nodded in agreement.

"Well, I hope that helped," Rose said, shooing them away. "You've got what you wanted. Off with you now. It's getting dark and my customers will be coming along soon, no doubt."

"Thank you for your help," Jayda said as they were shooed away from the corner. They were just about to go find their other friends when the unmistakable Rashemi accent called out to them.

"Jayda!" Minsc exclaimed, pushing through the crowd with Anomen in tow. He seemed to be carrying something heavy.

"My lady!" Anomen cried excitedly. "My lady, we've found something."

They finally made it through the throng and Minsc pulled the women aside. Once far enough from any ears, he revealed the exotic hide.

"Old Rampah found this at one of the murder scenes," Anomen told them, and then grimaced. "The beggar charged us for it, no less. One-hundred gold pieces, too!"

"The old man was skittish," Minsc said, "and he kept insisting it was not human flesh, which makes me wonder."

Jayda pursed her lips in thought and looked around at all of the shops. Most were closing as the sun began to set, but one owner was still at his stall. Bel. Jayda eyed the leather again and then snatched it up, scurrying across the market.

"Ah, did you change your mind—" Bel began.

"No!" she exclaimed before Jaheira could catch up and hit her again. "But I was wondering… if you thought you might could identify this piece of leather. It's a little odd and, well… I was curious."

"Let me see…" Bel shrugged, carefree, and took the thick hide into his thicker hands, turning it over and gently gliding his rough palm across the surface. "Hmm… looks quite thick indeed. Very rare, but I have seen it before." He turned it over again and examined it more closely. "This is elephant hide. Good for strong armor, but I rarely see it."

"Elephant hide?" Jayda echoed, partly relieved and partly confused that it didn't turn out to be human flesh.

"Yes," he replied, positive. "But it's _quite_ rare," he said again. "A tanner might see such hide on occasion, though it would be rare. Might be difficult to work with as well. You might want to speak to Rejiek—I'm sure he might be able to tell you. There's also a circus in town. I don't know if they have elephants, but the animal tamer would have certainly seen some in the past."

Jayda nodded and stepped away. "Thank you," she said, and when he tried to hand her back the hide, she shook her head. "Keep it," she replied, "in exchange for the berries and bark."

He shrugged and accepted and Jayda returned to her friends, worry creasing her brow. She relayed to them what Bel had told her and they all decided to see if Rejiek was still in his shop. They traveled south down the road the merchant had pointed out and located the building with little trouble. Jayda tried the door and found it open, so they all pushed inside. It reeked of tannin.

"I'm sorry," a grumbling voice called from the back of the shop, "I'm closed at the moment. Come back when I've replenished my stock."

"Are you Rejiek Hidesman, the tanner?" Jayda asked, peering into the store. "I'm here to ask you a few questions about the local murders."

"The guards have already canvassed the neighborhood," he said as he surfaced from the back, looking gruff and unfriendly, "so if you want anything, go talk to them."

"Some new evident has come to light," she said before he could kick them out. "I wanted to ask you about it. Elephant hide and tannin were found where the people were killed."

Rejiek went still and stared coldly at her. "I see," he said at length. "You have gathered this… evidence? I suppose others will know of this as well then?" He paced away from her. "Then it will not stop with your leaving. It's funny, isn't it?" he chuckled madly. "A simple piece of leather and a whiff of tannin."

Jayda's stomach dropped as she realized what Rejiek was admitting to. He was not a local tanner who could answer some questions. He was the murderer himself.

"If my leather had not been torn I would not have worn the new armor. No tear would have meant no smell!" he exclaimed angrily.

Jayda instantly drew one of her short swords. "You sick bastard! You'll be swinging from the gallows if I don't kill you first!"

"Never!" he cried. "My work must go on! There is only one place left for my craft to go, and you cannot stand in the way!"

Rejiek hit a lever that triggered the collapse of a storage unit in the ceiling, forcing Jayda and her companions to leap out of the way. Using the distraction as an escape, he fled down the stairs in the back. The adventurers scrambled to their feet and Jayda grabbed Aerie by the shoulder.

"Go find Lieutenant Aegisfield and tell him what we found! Tell him to rally as many men as he can and bring them here!"

"But what about you—"

"Go, Aerie!"

The timid elf nodded and fled while the rest of them climbed over the debris and followed after Rejiek, descending into the bowels of the shop. The stench hit them the moment they took the first step. Bodies were littered everywhere, flayed, and the floor and walls were covered in blood. Rotting corpses were piled in a corner and flies buzzed and feasted on festered lumps of spoiled carcasses. The crafting tables were matted with blood and chunks of human skin.

"Helm protect us…" Anomen whispered, drawing his shield closer to his face.

Jayda, Jaheira, and Minsc drew up the cloths they wore around their necks and covered their mouths and noses to block out the smell; it was a common practice among travelers, adventurers, and any who had ever seen battle to wear a bandana for just such an occasion. Stepping lively through the mangled masses, Jayda led the party to the stairs in the far back that descended to a dock and open, fresh air.

On the dock, Rejiek and several men were loading cargo onto a boat.

"No!" one of the men cried, stepping forward. "You will have no victory here! Rejiek must work on!" He twisted back to his friends. "Go, master!" he declared. "We will take care of these fools!"

Rejiek cast off as the others joined his defender's side and Jayda and her companions dashed forward. The one who had stopped them began murmuring and twisting his hands.

"Mage!" Jayda exclaimed and they all scatted, rolling and ducking behind boxes and crates. His spell struck where they had been and left a black smear on the wooden boards.

Jayda peeked over her hiding place, got a fix on the caster, and ducked back down. She whipped a dagger out of her boot and jumped up, tossing it across the docks. It hit the mage square in the chest mid-spell and he fell over in horror. Minsc, Jaheira, and Anomen sprang out from hiding and charged the rest of the villains, making quick work of them.

Jayda dashed to the end of the dock as the last enemy fell and peered out across the harbor, but Rejiek's boat was too far on the horizon to even dream of catching him. She cursed and wiped her clammy brow, chest heaving in exhaustion. A small fight like that would not normally take her breath away, but she had already been drained from the sleepless night and taxing dream.

Jaheira's hand on her shoulder pulled her from her depression and they made their way back to the street where they waited for Aegisfield and his support to show up.

"What happened?" the lieutenant asked as he scampered down the hill, Aerie at his side and a quartet of soldiers behind them. Jayda briefly explained, bitterly recounting how Rejiek had escaped. When she talked of the bodies on the second floor, she noticed Aerie cringe and wither, and was glad she sent her away. "Sounds like you did some excellent work," Aegisfield said at length as he motioned his men inside to verify the story. "I am grateful; we're short on men to investigate crimes where the poor suffer. You will be well liked around here."

"I'm just sorry he got away," Jayda mumbled.

"I'll have the guard try and spot Rejiek, but who knows what he will do. I doubt its over yet, but regardless, you exposed him. He won't be able to work freely in Athkatla again. I thank you. I'll put in a motion at the guardhouse to have you rewarded. Stop by sometime to pick it up. You've done us a great service, friend."

The lieutenant nodded to them and dismissed himself, joining his men inside the tanner's shop. Jayda and her friends exchanged disappointed glances, feeling nothing like heroes at all.


	6. Spies, Thieves, and Knights

**Spies, Thieves, and Knights**

After a few days of rest, Jayda had returned to her usual self. When she returned to Mae'Var's guildhouse, she found Edwin with his robes in a bunch, agitated that it had taken her so long to come back to work. With a list of services for her to perform, she spent nearly a tenday working her way back into his "good graces", if it could be called such. She was relieved to spend most of her time in the field, however; every moment she spent in the guildhall, she felt eyes on her but could never detect the source. It was unsettling.

During that busy time, Jayda had managed to collect the reward from the guards for solving the Skinner murders, as they had been dubbed, adding five-hundred gold pieces to their savings. Feeling renewed, Jayda and her friends had decided to check out the strange affairs happening in the back rooms of the Copper Coronet and uncovered Lehtinan's fighting ring and the slavery operation being organized out of the docks. With a thunderous vengeance—for Minsc was not the only one ready to enact righteous fury on the slavers—they destroyed the fighting ring, freed the slaves, and eliminated Lehtinan. Hendak, a leader of the slaves, took the vermin's place as owner of the Coronet, and then Jayda and her comrades dispatched, one by one, the slavers of Athkatla.

They were hailed as heroes by some, cursed as meddlers by others, and overall found little had changed at their beloved Slums inn.

/

One night at The Copper Coronet, Jayda and her friends were in good spirits and conversation hummed at their table, nearly meeting the lively energy of the rest of the tavern. A few wenches coaxed Minsc into a dance as the bards struck up a new melody; though the ladies tugged on Anomen's arms, it was Minsc who managed to pull the squire into the fray. Aerie, laughing, was comfortable watching from afar; but as soon as Jaheira excused herself for some fresh air, overzealous men easily swept the winged elf off into the merriment. They tried with Jayda, but they proved no match for a Bhaalspawn that did not wish to dance.

She finished her ale and set the mug on the table, keeping an eye on Aerie being spun through the crowd, careful to make sure no harm came to her. A person filled the space next to her and suddenly another mug was planted in front of her. She grinned up at Gaelan Bayle.

"Coo! No work tonight," he said, motioning to her empty tankard. "Not one for a dance?"

"Not with them," she replied, "but I might be convinced."

He grinned and lifted his drink to his mouth. "Maybe I'll have to try convincin' ye later," and he took a gulp of his ale. "Good thing I brought ye another drink. I feel sure I'll be needin' it for persuasion."

She laughed and sipped it. "A better way to persuade me would be to earn your way into my good graces."

"And here I thought I had, what with settin' ye up with work and makin' the offer to help ye find yer friend," he said. She gave him a look that told him that was only the beginning. "Yer a hard woman to please…" he purred curiously and then took another pull on his ale. "Alright, then, go on. Tell me what I might do to earn me Lady's favor."

"You could start with the identity of your 'friends' that offered to help me," she replied.

"Coo! Ye really don't wanna dance, do ye? Ye pick the one thing ye know I cannot do." He set his drink on the table, pretending to be disappointed. "Was worth a try, at least."

"I was thinking something similar…" she admitted with a smile.

Jayda enjoyed Gaelan's company. On their first meeting, she had thought him to be handsome, and as they had spoken, he had proved charming as well. In spite of her anger at his well-guarded secrets, their chance encounters had been enjoyable; somehow, he managed to take her mind off of the troubles that plagued her. Not to mention she enjoyed bantering with him. He was quick-witted and charismatic, even with his Slum dialect. There was something to be said about the allure of bad boys, but Jayda pushed the thought out of her mind, deciding her attraction to him was surface, at best.

...

Gaelan watched the way she responded to him and was fascinated by it. He had previously interacted with two types of women: those who wanted nothing to do with him and those who were ready to spread their legs after a hearty and well-intended "good evening". Jayda was someone he found harder to read and, dare he think it, almost friend-like. He couldn't recall having any female friends not old enough to be his mum.

It was his job to watch her, encourage her trust in him and his friends, and guide her into their arrangement, but it was also against the rules to become personally involved. Gaelan had never made that kind of mistake before, and he certainly wouldn't now. Business was business. Still, he fancied the fantasies and told him himself to enjoy the game while he could.

As they talked, he swept his gaze over the crowd several times, making note of who was present and who might be watching. It wasn't until his third glance that he noticed a shifty fellow on the other side of the room, peering at them. He instantly recognized the lout as one of Mae'Var's friends and knew they would be in trouble if something wasn't done.

There was only one way to shatter the illusion for the spy, and so, without warning, Gaelan stretched out of his chair and trapped Jayda in hers. He leaned down and felt her still under him so he closed his eyes and waited for the blow but nothing happened. Frowning, Gaelan opened his eyes and saw her staring wide-eyed at him, the blush of alcohol in her face.

"What're ye doing?" he asked.

"I-I wonder the same thing of you!" she retorted.

He bent into her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her closer. He dipped his head into her neck on the side the spy could not see and kissed her throat and jaw, working his way to her ear. Her uncertain gasp almost made him lose his focus.

"One of Mae'Var's thugs has been watchin' us," he whispered breathily. "Hit me."

"What?" she whispered, half-heartedly pushing at his chest.

"Hit me!" he hissed. "It be the only way to throw 'im off our relationship."

She shoved him back hard, but he just came in again, playing the part of a drunk that couldn't catch a clue. He scooped her up again and went for her neck, noting another vibration of enjoyment in her throat. How much had she drunk, he wondered. Jayda suddenly pushed him back and decked him in the jaw, sprawling him on the floor. He grimaced, touching his cheek, and wondered why she had to punch him so hard. She grabbed her ale and tossed it on him as he tried to stand.

They stood there, staring at one another, as Gaelan tried not to laugh. Then something happened that easily wiped the amusement from his mood. Minsc barreled out of the crowd, drunk and enflamed.

"What has happened here?" he exclaimed, noting a doused Gaelan kneeling on the ground and a flustered Jayda looming over him. "You dare try to violate my precious friend?"

"No, no, no," Gaelan protested, but it was too late.

"Squeaky wheels get the kick!" the ranger exclaimed and he raised his arms high, loosing a cleaving swing down on the rogue.

Gaelan rolled out of the way just in time and jumped to his feet. He heard Jayda's exclamations for Minsc to stop, but the drunken ranger did not hear her. Gaelan ducked a series of swings, wondering if his opponent was nearing some aspect of berserker rage. Not wanting to injure or be injured, Gaelan looked for a possible escape, but the throng was tightening a circle around the fight, chanting excitedly for blood.

Minsc roared and charged at Gaelan, who barely managed to dodge. The ranger was too enraged to stop himself and his barreling run tackled nearly four men to the ground. In that moment, the crowd erupted in a fight; fists flew everywhere as chaos ensued. Jayda ducked several swings before she felt a hand clamp around her wrist.

Gaelan tugged her through the mob and, as they wove through the rough-housing, Jayda noted Aerie being protected by Anomen at the far end of the room. They slipped out of the Coronet and didn't stop to rest until they were hidden in an alley, gasping for breath.

"Mae'Var's rat didn't follow us," Gaelan mumbled and then grinned at her. "Nice punch…"

"Sorry," she whimpered with a chuckle then gingerly touched his cheekbone. He hissed and flinched. "Ah, that'll bruise… Not to mention, you reek."

"I have you to thank for that as well," he added pointedly, tugging at his sopping shirt; he released it and sighed as it clung to his skin again. "Well, that be one way to get the evenin' started… ye up for part two?"

"I… should probably go rescue Aerie and Anomen. I don't know how many bar brawls they've seen, but between the two of them, I could probably count it on one hand."

"Suit yeself," he said and wrung the ale out of his tunic. He smirked and leaned into her. "Perhaps a little ale did the trick, didn't it? Ye seemed awfully persuaded in there. Almost thought ye might give me more than a dance, me Lady."

She cleared her throat and lightly shoved him back. "Don't make me hit you again…" she mumbled.

"Coo!" Gaelan howled, amused. "Careful, else ye play to a quiet fetish." He tipped his head to her. "Evening, me Lady."

And then he left.

/

The guildhall was always quiet during the day. The thieves slept in or spent their afternoons out. Jayda had been one of the ones to wake up early that day—and early for a thief was lunchtime. She was on her way up to see Edwin for the latest task and was just telling herself how she would give him a good talking to if he insisted on wasting her time anymore—enough was enough—when she realized she was not alone in the hallway.

Mae'Var slipped out from a hidden alcove and stopped her in her tracks. His hazy eyes reflected her surprise and a smile slithered across her face. He drifted across the carpet so smoothly, it was as if he were floating, and before she knew it he was standing directly in front of her.

"You've done well," he purred. "Edwin has reported nothing but unfailing action and success… if not an ounce of rebellion." He seemed pleased. "I suppose it suits you, and I look forward to quelling your defiance."

"Edwin said that?" she asked, disbelieving. He laughed breathily.

"Edwin has been telling me you are, at the very least, competent. Fairly good at the sneaksman's trade, but a little ham-fisted when you fight," he replied, provoking an agitated snarl from Jayda. "For him," he added, "that makes you practically family."

He lifted his gaze to the top of her head and the hood pulled over her hair. He reached out, catching the silver lining of her cowl between his fingers, and then he slowly and gently caressed the soft fabric, up and down.

"You have nearly proven your worth to my guild… Though you keep strange company, I do not begrudge your taste. That fool of a thief finally got what was coming to him."

His cloudy eyes seemed to light up, and Jayda could only assume he was referring to what his spy had reported about the incident with Gaelan. She tried to smile, but her skin had bloomed goosebumps and her throat felt dry.

"Soon, you will be released from Edwin's service and transferred to my own. I can almost trust you. I'm sure I will find many uses for someone of your talents and skills." His grin was faint and as his fingers stroked downward on the hood, one finger reached out and gently caressed the side of her face. "I'm sure I will find… many uses for you…"

Jayda tried not to let her disgust show on her face, but no doubt he sensed how creepy she found him. It seemed to please him all the more.

"I've a special task for you," he whispered, taking a slow circle around her. "You do this for me and you'll be set within the guild for whatever you need. Don't think it will be easy though." He stopped behind her and inhaled her scent then sighed erotically as though it were intoxicating. He bent to her ear and whispered. "There is a… shhh…"—he put his finger to her lips—"there is a traitor amongst us… Yes," he hissed as Jayda's heart began to beat wildly, "one who has abused the trust we have given him. He must be dealt with… in a," he lightly tugged at the edge of her hood, his fingers gliding over her jaw, "_permanent_ fashion."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, momentarily forgetting how he made her insides churn. Had he discovered her? Was he now toying with her like the sick bastard he was? She thought of reaching for her dagger but waited as Mae'Var came to stand before her again, his face too close to hers.

"Edwin has the details," he murmured. "Do this for me… and I will see you rewarded."

"He will not outlive the day," she whispered.

"Good…" he purred. "That's the spirit I like to see! Show him what it means to be a Shadow Thief."

Mae'Var's tongue twitched anxiously behind his lips. He leaned forward like he might kiss her but resisted; why, she didn't know, but she was grateful. Instead, his tongue flicked out and licked the top of her lip. Then, with a final smile, he quietly wandered away.

Jayda stood there, paralyzed, for several moments. When she was sure she was alone, she wiped her mouth and attempted to rub the goosebumps out of her arms, but she was too repulsed. She jumped up and down, trying to shake off the awful feeling, and then she marched up the last flight of stairs to where she knew Edwin would be. For the first time since the damnable red wizard had come into her life, she was happy to see him.

"There you are," he began. "You're late. What took you so long and why are you looking at me like that?" He cringed. "Your eyes are actually… _affectionate_."

"Misunderstanding," she told him. "I assure you. I just had a rather… chilling encounter with Mae'Var…"

"Speaking of our heartless leader," Edwin continued, "he has a job for you. The traitor Embarl is holed up in the Sea's Bounty and Mae'Var wants you to kill him—let's see, what were the words? Ah, yes—with prejudice. He bids you bring the fool's dagger as proof."

"Description?"

"He's a skinny worm of a fellow, with scraggly brown hair, say… about to here," he motioned just above his shoulders, "and a boy's fuzz to match." He stroked his chin and the brown-orange whiskers he possessed. "You can't miss him.

Jayda nodded, still visibly shaken, and turned to go.

"With this, you will have surpassed the exceedingly low expectations I had of you," he continued and she wondered if he was trying to provoke her. "You've exceeded your lowborn heritage and surged to the vanguard of goonery! You now have the trust of Mae'Var securely in hand, and have proven your competence to me once more… though just barely."

Jayda turned to him, fingers clenching into fists; she wasn't in the mood for his rabble—not today. If he wanted a fight, he'd get one.

"Now that I'm assured of your loyalty to the cause of the moment," Edwin said before she could charge him, "it seems an appropriate juncture to dispense with false pretenses. Your pretense of naiveté and wilderness manners is clever, but a Red Wizard sees more than mere appearance. You have a secret, Jayda." He drew closer. "I know why you are here," he whispered, "mashing your lips on Mae'Var's boots, and it's nothing to do with stipends or wages or other guild business."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted.

"Don't insult my intelligence, as if you could comprehend it!" he exclaimed and then, after glancing around, lowered his voice again. "If you wish to maintain the lie then I will be forced to confront Mae'Var with my suspicions."

They glared at one another until Jayda, through gritted teeth, finally caved.

"What exactly do you want, Edwin?"

He shrugged. "As it happens, I know where we can find damning evidence of Mae'Var's betrayal of Renal Bloodscalp. That is your purpose here, isn't it?" He waited for her denial but she gave none. "Yes, I thought so. Mae'Var has been courting the Night Knives in order to bolster his own strategic position and betray Renal. Masterfully planned, but I have seen through it."

"Bold talking about this in the master's house," she muttered, "even in a whisper."

"I've silenced the place," he confessed, "but it never hurts to be too cautious."

"Who are the Knives?"

"A cutthroat guild of footpads, brigands, and highwaymen based in the congested cesspool of Westgate," he replied. "Obviously they wish to expand. Mae'Var is fully aware of the penalty if the Shadow Thieves learn of his plan. It would be disastrous, both for his ambitions and his continued breathing."

"And what makes you hop fences, Edwin?"

"Mae'Var plays a dangerous game crossing Renal Bloodscalp and I plan to be on the winning side in this affair."

"Self-preservation all the way, huh? So what's your plan, Thayvian?"

"The proof is locked away in Mae'Var's quarters," he told her, "and I conveniently have a key that opens his strongbox." He produced the small, silver object and Jayda grabbed for it but he snatched it quickly out of reach. "When you bring Embarl's dagger to Mae'Var, play up to him. I know he has his eye on you, though I cannot imagine what he finds so appealing. Seduce him into his bedchambers and after he has passed out, you will be free to take the documents."

"Sleep with him?" she balked, and shivered as though someone had walked over her grave.

"Why not? It will suit our purposes in the long run."

"No!"

"Listen, you ingrate! If you mess this up, it will be both our heads!"

Jayda growled and snatched the key. "I'll get those documents," she promised, "but I'll do it my way." And still with a repugnant feeling, Jayda left the guildhouse as fast as she possibly could.

/

The horizon was a velvety mixture of red, orange, and gold and the slum rooftops seemed to glow with a yellow hue. Jayda walked slowly back to the inn she and her friends had come to love. Mae'Var's fingers on her face, his breath on her skin, his deep inhale of her scent, and, worst of all, his tongue on her lips—she couldn't get them out of her head. She felt utterly violated and unclean, wanting nothing more than to bathe and purge herself of his touch.

It had been hours since she'd met with the guildmaster and she still had goosebumps that prickled her flesh. Why couldn't she rid herself of them? It so preoccupied her, that when Anomen suddenly appeared beside her, she nearly turned a dagger on him.

"Good evening! Are you returning to the Coronet?"

"Aye," she replied quietly, quickly returning the knife to its hidden sheath.

"Then… could we walk together? I myself am returning from a full day and would enjoy some company."

"Of course," she agreed. She enjoyed Anomen's company, true enough, but his mannerisms and formality made it challenging for her to relax around him.

"I prithee, my lady…" he began with a smile. "It fills me with no small amount of wonder that you have not asked me of my journeys ere we met. We have traveled a short while, and yet we know next to nothing of each other."

She wasn't sure traveled was the appropriate word-use but she didn't call him out. Instead, she nodded to acknowledge him.

"That's a fair point," she conceded. "Then, why don't you tell me of one of your journeys."

"There is precious little to tell," he confessed and she stifled a smile. "Although, my few adventures have been glorious, indeed. The path to knighthood is a long one, however… hence the need for my travels. But a few of my deeds have reached the ears of bards." He lifted his chin proudly. "Battle is commonplace enough throughout Amn, and the Order has fielded its army many times in recent years. Most recently, however… let me think… I was with our men when the orcs came down into the Ommlur Hills once again," he told her. "In great numbers, they are a force to fear… but individually, they are no match for a warrior. I, myself, was able to fight through many of them alone and take the head of one of their foul chieftains."

"That's very impressive," Jayda said sincerely as they trudged through the Slums.

"Aye, it has been a struggle to prove my worth to the Order. I wish nothing more than to ride into battle with the crest of the Radiant Heart flying over my head." He chuckled at the notion and quickly switched gears. "But I speak too much of my own deeds. One would think me preoccupied with pride. I would not blame you were you not interested in hearing tales of my prowess, truly."

"It isn't like that, Anomen. I enjoy your tales." It wasn't a lie. Hearing them from such a young and eager mind was refreshing. All she could remember were gruesome and bloody affairs that seemed to drain the hope and life from her and her friends, slowly and endlessly.

"I am interested in hearing something of yours, my lady. I have been told a little of your deeds in the Sword Coast, albeit they do sound quite fanciful and exaggerated."

"Well, most stories do grow with the telling, Anomen," she said with a laugh. "My story is no more exceptional than anyone else's."

"Aye, that has a ring of truth," he agreed as they turned onto the main street that would take them to their inn. "I did not think that you truly stopped a war in the north on your own, skilled as you might be," he laughed. "Rumor brings exaggeration, I am told."

Jayda bit her lower lip. "Actually, that part's true," she said quietly. "I did stop a war with Amn several months ago… b-but I didn't do it on my own, of course!" she added, waving her hands to warn him away from crazy assumptions. He still seemed shocked nonetheless.

"Well, of course you had fellow companions who aided you then as now," he said, more to convince himself than her. "And together you performed deeds as great as those I hope to accomplish in your service. A wondrous thing, indeed." Anomen smiled gently at her. "Perhaps you will tell me more, Jayda, as we walk… I would hear more of these former companions of yours and your valiant tales of the Sword Coast."

Jayda nodded after a moment, feeling her face warm under Helm's servant's tender gaze.

"All right," she agreed. "I think we may have time for one…"


	7. The Betrayer's Quest

**The Betrayer's Quest**

Jayda slipped into the Sea's Bounty inn late in the night when all were sound asleep. Luckily, the inn was built on a slope and had two entrances: the first, a set of stairs, led down into the tavern half of the establishment, and the second, a door straight off the landing, opening into the inn portion. She merely took an open window and crept along the beds until she found the one who matched Edwin's description.

She drew a dagger and placed it near his neck, then clamped a hand tight over his mouth. He awoke with a start, wide-eyed and terrified. She leaned down so that her lips were next to his ear.

"In a moment, I will remove my hand," she whispered, "and you will not scream. If you scream, I will sunder your neck," she tapped his throat with her dagger to emphasize her point, "and be gone before any is the wiser. Do we understand one another?"

He nodded vigorously and so she removed her hand. Embarl's lips drew up as he tried to prevent himself from crying. Jayda's face was like cold stone and reflected none of the emotions she felt, but as she looked upon this petrified man, her heart knotted in sympathy.

"You… you're here to kill me, aren't you?" he whimpered pathetically and she nodded, provoking a tearful wince. "Please!" he begged. "Tell Mae'Var it was all a misunderstanding!"

"Misunderstanding?" she asked coolly.

"I-I didn't m-mean to," he sobbed. "I overheard Mae'Var t-talking to some of the other g-g-guildmembers about k-k-killing Renal Bloodscalp." Spittle dampened his lips and his whole body trembled. "I-I-I-I cried out in shock and M-Mae'Var heard me!" He shook so badly that his speech faltered; Embarl got to his knees and crawled closer to where she was positioned on the bed. "I'm as good as dead, I know it! But p-please don't kill me," he cried, tears streaming down his face. "I-I've been faithful to the Shadow Thieves. I never wanted to get mixed up in this."

Jayda remained still as she watched him weep and shake, wishing she could assure him then and there. She had never intended to kill the man for an act she herself was close to committing. But once he confessed to overhearing the proof she required, she knew she could not simply let him go. She needed him. So after a long stretch of silence, she finally spoke.

"Do you have any proof?"

"No," he mumbled, sniffling and wiping his face with the back of his hand. "No, no—I don't have nothing like that! I only know what I overheard Mae'Var saying. Honest!" He groaned. "But the fact that he knows I heard him means he will hunt me until I am dead!"

Jayda put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stop your tears and dry your face," she commanded. "Together we will go to Renal himself and you will tell your story to him."

"No," he whispered, horrified at the very idea. "No, I can't! If I say anything to Renal, Mae'Var will hunt me down! Worse, Renal may think I am the assassin! I have to leave—I have to get out of Athkatla! Please," he said, starting to get upset again, "let me go!"

"I cannot," she said. "But I promise neither Mae'Var nor Renal will harm you. I have been charged with finding proof of Mae'Var's treachery. I know of such proof, and I will obtain it. When I have it, you will come with me to Renal and tell him what you have told me. Do you understand?"

He started to shake his head but she narrowed her gaze on him and he finally gave in, nodding that he understood. Jayda held out her hand.

"Give me your dagger," she commanded and he hesitantly fetched it for her. Once the hilt was in her hand, she reached out with lightning reflexes and sliced him along his arm.

"Ow!" he cried, slapping a hand over the bleeding wound. "W-why?"

"To prove to Mae'Var that the deed is done," she replied and tossed him a bundle of gauze. "You'll be fine. Wrap it up and head to the Shadow guild. Tell them that you are my charge and are to be kept safe until I return."

He nodded, hissing through clenched teeth as his arm pulsed out blood. Jayda ripped a piece of cloth from Embarl's tunic and lightly wrapped the bloody dagger.

"I don't know who you are, friend," he said quietly, "but I thank you. Truly."

"Jayda," she replied with barely a hint of a smile. "Now go, before Mae'Var's spies come looking for more proof."

And then she slipped out of the window and was gone.

/

Mae'Var's guildhouse was quiet when Jayda returned. She was anxious to be done with her business and had decided to present the dagger right away. She told one of the thieves on guard on the second floor that she needed to speak with their leader. He bid her wait in the empty foyer with a fire crackling in the hearth; she turned to watch the flames dance and lick at the brick, warming herself from the dampness of her tunic. The steady fall of rain had made her trip across the Docks district a less than enjoyable one.

As much as she despised Edwin's plan, he had at least concocted a good one. Though she cringed at the thought of having to play up to Mae'Var and run the risk of his foul hands touching her, she had to admit that it was the best way to get into his chambers and get the proof. Once inside, however, she wasn't sure how she would deal with him. It wasn't like they could duel. He was certainly a skilled fighter and, even if she could get the upper hand, he had a guild of thieves at his beck and call.

But to be close enough, and him off-guard enough, to knock him out… that would require a level of intimacy she shuddered at.

"You return," Mae'Var purred from behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts and turning her to face him. "Do you have my dagger?"

Jayda handed him the bundle and he unwrapped it, pulling the dagger from the cloth and marveling at the blood still streaked across the blade.

"It's wet," he mused, eyeing her with his cloudy gaze.

"Of course," she replied. "I killed him with it."

Mae'Var's lips twitched as his mouth twisted into a pleasured smile. He stepped closer to her and ran the tip of the dagger down her cheek, smearing a streak of Embarl's blood on her skin.

"Good," he purred, "very good. And now, Jayda… you have been brought into my fold." He dropped the dagger back into the cloth and wrapped it up, passing it off to the thief guard. "Hassil will give you the reward I promised if you—"

She swallowed her fear and her hands shot out, gliding up his chest and stopping his words in his throat. She leaned close to whisper in his ear.

"I was thinking of something a little more… personal," she purred.

Mae'Var's slithering smile instantly made her regret taking this path. But it was too late to change her mind. With a single nod to accept her offer, he waved his hand to dismiss Hassil then pushed into her, burying his face in her neck. His tongue flicked across her throat while his hands roamed the curves of her waist and hips. He pushed her up against the window next to the hearth and she heard the rain outside had picked up considerably. Jayda cast a glance at his bedroom door.

She had to get him inside.

"Someone will see," she murmured. "I'm too impatient to wait."

"Let them watch," he breathed, and Jayda resisted kneeing him in the crotch; how many kinks could one creep possess? "We must teach you patience. All things are better savored once we've tormented ourselves with longing first; all things better appreciated if taken slow." He nipped at her lower lip. "Like Lin…" he mused. "I could have simply killed him for his crimes… but why deny the pleasure of correcting his nature so completely?"

Jayda swallowed hard. So torture and love-making were on par with one another in Mae'Var's mind. He preyed on fear and control, and had so far exercised ultimate power over his men. Sometimes, in controlling men like Mae'Var, a twisted alter ego desired to be dominated. If she turned the tables, she might be able to reverse their positions. If he didn't go for it, however, she would have to contend with his punishment for her disobedience.

Jayda gripped his tunic and shoved him back, taking momentary satisfaction in his surprised expression. She cleared the distance between them and grabbed a fistful of his tunic.

"There will be plenty of time to teach me later," she cooed, "and I'll expect you to be very thorough… But right now…"

She tugged him into his bedroom, letting the thought hang in the air. Mae'Var grinned excitedly and she mentally swiped the sweat from her brow, thankful it had worked. Now she only had to figure out how to disable him so that she could get to the strongbox. One step at a time, she reminded herself. One sneaky step at a time.

Jayda backed him into his bed and pushed him onto his back; as she climbed on top of him, her eyes flitted around the room, searching for some blunt object to smash over his head. There was a candleholder on his nightstand… If she could just get closer to it…

Mae'Var suddenly pulled her down onto him, stopping any further plans of positional rearrangement, and leaned up to kiss her. She shut her eyes tight and waited for the dreaded touch, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes and saw that he was frowning, staring transfixed at a point beyond her.

"What is it?" she asked quietly and he put a finger to his lips to silence her. She listened, too, and that's when she heard the faint sounds of battle.

Mae'Var sat up, pushing her off of him, and went to door. Hassil flew up the stairs and burst into the foyer, gasping for breath.

"They're here, attacking the guild!" he exclaimed. "The night-fiends!"

"Come!" Mae'Var commanded her and he bolted out the door, following Hassil down the stairs.

Jayda ran after them as far as Mae'Var's bedroom door and then stopped, watching as he disappeared from sight. She quickly shut the door and surveyed his room, finding the strongbox in a corner opposite his bed. She slipped the key in and turned.

The door burst open and Jayda yelped, jerking a dagger from her belt and sending it flying at the intruder. Edwin shrieked and gawked at the knife sticking in the door, missing his head by inches.

"What are you doing here?" she screamed through clenched teeth and finished opening the strongbox. She pulled the papers from inside and began shuffling through them to find the right ones.

"Gossip in the corridors said you and Mae'Var were intimately entangled. When the attack came, I assumed I had an opportunity!"

"There," she said, plucking the right documents from the stack. She shoved the rest in, locked back up, and tossed the key to Edwin, who was so nervous that he nearly dropped it. "Let's go!"

They took the stairs to the third floor and went out onto the rain-soaked porch, climbing the wooden steps down to the street. They avoided the fight by sticking to the shadows, skirting around the chaos in the road, and Jayda quietly hoped that one of the night-fiends—whatever they were—would best Mae'Var at his own, sick game.

/

Drenched, Jayda led an equally sopping and unhappy Edwin and a shaking Embarl up to Renal's audience chamber and around the bend to where the guildmaster waited with several of his thieves, all counting out coins and gems. Renal smiled when he saw her, extending one arm welcomingly.

"Ah, Jayda! I was just counting some loot from a delightful outing we had not long ago and I thought of you. Mask help me if I didn't smile just a little!" He motioned her closer. "You won't make that smile disappear, will you? You've brought news, perhaps? You've brought some evidence of Mae'Var's foulness?" He glanced back at Edwin and Embarl. "You've brought some of Mae'Var's own, I see. Do tell, Jayda."

"Embarl here," she pointed back to the trembling man, "overheard Mae'Var's plans and was marked for death. Go on, Embarl. Tell him what you told me."

The thief, with less stuttering this time, retold his story.

"It's not enough, I know," Jayda said when Renal opened his mouth to speak. "Edwin, Mae'Var's right-hand man as you well know, also knows of Mae'Var's plans and can testify to his treachery… Plans that were outlined…" she extended the papers, "in these." As Renal opened them up and began reading, she explained. "It seems Mae'Var has been making overtures to the Night Knives. They call for your assassination, guildmaster."

"Is that so?" he asked as he scanned the documents. "Hmmn. Now, that is unexpected." A disappointed frown creased his brow and then he passed the papers off to an associate. "Fortunately, it's more than enough to damn Mae'Var completely. I thank you, Jayda for providing this."

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. "For coming forward, I request pardons for Embarl and Edwin, guildmaster."

"Of course," he replied, "so long as their loyalties lie with the Shadow Thieves and not with Mae'Var, for they are no longer the same thing."

Embarl and Edwin bowed appreciatively to Renal and were escorted out. Renal drew Jayda away from the others like he had on their first meeting, though he did not put his arm around her this time, probably because he had no desire to share in her wetness.

"Only the last part of our deal remains to be carried out," Renal began. "Go and eliminate Mae'Var with my full authority. Do that and this business shall be finished. Finally."

Jayda dipped her head respectively. "With pleasure, guildmaster."


	8. The Venom of Snakes

**The Venom of Snakes**

Embarl and Edwin had promised to help Jayda eliminate Mae'Var and his loyalists and, with that vow, she bid them remain at the Shadow guild until she was ready. She required more recruits for her plan and knew she would need Minsc and Jaheira's help. She also knew that if Edwin showed up, she would hardly get the chance to ask; Minsc and Edwin's hatred for one another was near legendary.

She inhaled deeply before she pushed open the door to the Copper Coronet and found her friends at their usual table. Anomen and Aerie were with them and the group seemed to be enjoying the topic of whatever it was they were conversing about. She made her way through the crowd and dropped into a chair.

"What happened?" Aerie asked, concerned. "Did you jump into a river?"

"I got caught in the rain," she replied, sniffing and wiping at her face with her soaked sleeve. Anomen quickly passed her his handkerchief and she dabbed at her cheeks. "Thank you."

"You look like something's on your mind," Jaheira said, leaning on her elbows propped on the table.

"I found it," Jayda told Jaheira and Minsc. "I found the proof required and have been charged with the task of eliminating the snake and his nest of followers." She glanced at Aerie and Anomen then continued. "I have two, but I need more. Can I count you in?"

"Of course," Jaheira said.

"Minsc and Boo stand ready," the ranger replied.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Anomen said. "What are you talking about?"

Jayda dabbed at her forehead and chin. "Killing thieves," she answered. "Slimy, slithering, traitorous thieves…"

"Well," Anomen exclaimed, "then you, of course, have my sword!"

"And my magic," Aerie chirped.

"Are you sure?" Jayda asked them, giving each one a serious look. "It will be dangerous. These aren't common street thugs; these are Shadow Thieves."

"I'm not afraid of any thief," Anomen declared and Aerie vigorously nodded her agreement.

"Then, I thank you. Both of you," Jayda said sincerely, idly recalling Anomen had promised his sword when he wielded a mace. She brushed the thought aside and focused on Minsc. "My friend… there is something you should know. Edwin marches with us against Mae'Var."

He gasped. "The enemy of fair, departed Dynaheir and enemy of mine?" he scoffed. "He shall be destroyed for the good of all!"

"No!" Jayda exclaimed. "Minsc, no. He is foul as any Thayvian I've ever known, a despicable wizard, and I do not begrudge his undoing… But he stood with me this time and pledged to help me eliminate Mae'Var, and for that I cannot let you harm him." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Minsc. I will not ask you to endure his presence for my sake."

Minsc frowned and stared down at his hands for a long moment. Then, he looked up and nodded.

"No, you are right. I will not abandon you now when you need me. Minsc and Boo will fight beside you, and the cursed Red Wizard shall not deter our duty!"

She smiled. "Thank you…"

"You look exhausted," Jaheira remarked as Jayda glanced around the room.

"I am…" she replied, noticing Gaelan Bayle at the bar; a scantily clad woman hovered near him. He smiled when he caught Jayda's gaze and winked.

Jayda suddenly remembered the night Gaelan had come on to her to pick a fight to confuse Mae'Var's spy. Perhaps it had only been the alcohol running through her body, but his kisses had been… enjoyable. Mae'Var's, however, had made her skin crawl and her stomach churn. She touched her neck, wishing she could scrub the memory out of her skin. But all the rain she'd sloshed through had yet to make her feel clean.

"I'm going to rest and regain my energy. Tomorrow, we storm the guildhouse." Without warning, she popped up and made her way toward the bar.

Gaelan grinned when he saw her coming over and signaled to Bernard to bring a round of whiskey shots. The innkeeper placed them on the counter just as Jayda sidled up next to him.

"Evenin'," he began, and the scantily clad woman near him tugged on his sleeve, giggling drunkly, and pointed across the room. He nodded but didn't watch her go.

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Jayda asked with a laugh.

"Ehh, too old, too drunk," he agreed, "too related. She's me cousin."

"Oh," Jayda said with a snort of laughter.

"Ye not jealous, are ye?" he asked as he passed her one of the shots.

"No, and no thanks… I'm exhausted and just want to sleep."

He shoved the shot into her hand anyway. "It'll help ye sleep," he assured her. "Long night?"

"Yes…" she mumbled and knocked back the whiskey. "And an equally long one tomorrow…"

"Aye," he agreed. "Thieves work ain't a simple thing, is it? 'Specially not where traitors be concerned."

She pursed her lips and considered him. He just stared, as innocently as possible, but innocence was never one of Gaelan's attributes. He studied her face. She was tired, true, but something else seemed to have drained her of her energy than swiping damning evidence against Mae'Var. He hadn't heard any word that she'd been in the surprise attack from the rival guild. So what?

"It's a little troubling, Gaelan, that you always seem to have your ear in my business."

"It'd be more troublin' if I didn't, bein' that would mean me well-connected information network be disabled. And that, me Lady, would be good for no one."

Of course, there were other rumors… such as Mae'Var's sudden shine to her. Now he began to wonder if such a strange rumor had been true, after all. Then he pitied her. Mae'Var was as cold-blooded as they came and could still be called a man. She was braver than he originally thought if she endured Mae'Var's "affection" for the sake of a Shadow Thief's cause. He wanted to ask but knew he could confirm it with sources elsewhere.

"Perhaps," she mumbled, eyes reflecting her exhaustion. "I just want it to be over."

"Aye," he agreed. "I do not think anyone will miss 'im, either, to be sure." Gaelan sipped his drink. "Give him a good hit in me honor, will ye? Payback for the blow I took cause of 'im."

"Why does he hate you so much, anyway?"

"Why?" Gaelan asked. "Did he say somethin' to ye?"

"Just that you got what was coming to you."

"Coo! I guess he would say that, wouldn't he?" He laughed. "Suffice it to say, we never really saw eye to eye, we didn't. Once had an opportunity to kill him, I did, an' I didn't take it. Don't think he's ever forgiven me for it, showin' him up and lettin' him live with it."

"I wish you had taken it," she said quietly, confirming what he suspected to be true. "I'm not sure I'll ever forgive you, either."

"Aye," he agreed. "An' for your sake, I deeply regret it. But if ye have it in ye heart, do me one last favor, and make him suffer. It be no less than he deserves."

"Aye," she whispered distantly, thoughts probably on some unpleasant memory. "I can do that much."

/

The Docks district was utterly dark on a night like that. Black rainclouds filled the sky, blocking out the moon, and the heavy rain became a concealing veil. Jayda slinked through the shadows and crouched under a shop canopy, spying on The Quiet Cretin. There were a few lights on in some of the rooms, but it was ultimately as dark as the rest of the city.

No doubt, Mae'Var had understood something had gone wrong when neither his new pet nor his wizard joined him and his thieves in the fight against the night-fiends. She was positive he had figured out their deception when the battle had settled and found his guildhouse without two of his trusted. Meaning, she was sure he had posted guards to watch for retribution he had to know was coming. Mae'Var was paranoid and sick, but he was not stupid.

She signaled for Embarl to advance. He crept up and crouched behind her.

"There's a watcher on the porch. Tell Minsc to take him out," she whispered. "I don't see anyone else, but I'm sure they're on alert." Before Embarl could walk away, she grabbed him by the collar. "You might have to help Minsc find him… He'll hit the scout, no doubt, but he might have trouble locating him…"

Embarl nodded his understanding and slipped away. Jayda waited for the scout to be brought down and, in the rain and the darkness, it seemed like an endless amount of time had passed before she could barely make out the arrow slice through the rain. The body slumped and she detected no more stirring.

Jayda advanced to the wooden steps that led up to the porch and met Embarl and the others underneath it. Jaheira was easily concealed in the shadow with her tanned skin and dark hair. Minsc and Anomen's armor had to be muddied before they could qualify as hidden. Aerie and Edwin, however, were bundled up in dark cloaks with the hoods pulled down. A red-robed wizard and a blond-haired elf stood out even at night.

"There's a side entrance," she told them, reiterating the plan she'd given earlier. "I'll go up first. Embarl, bring the rest up when I signal it's clear."

He nodded and she set off, moving in a low crouch. She climbed the stairs and inspected the porch but there was only the one, dead thief. With her ear pressed to the door, she listened, but heard nothing moving within. She signaled to Embarl and the rest of the group ascended to her level. She checked the door and was surprised to find it wasn't trapped; it was, however, locked.

Slipping the thieves' tools from her belt, she made quick work of the lock. With a nod to Minsc and Jaheira, she backed off and waited. Jaheira put her back against the wall next to the door while Minsc stood directly across it, an arrow notched in his longbow. Jaheira then knocked the door open with her quarterstaff and they waited for an arrow to fly.

Nothing.

That meant the coast was clear. Jayda ducked inside first, tracking watery footprints across the lush, red carpet. She investigated Edwin's old occupancy but found the entire third floor void of any thief. The rest entered and they closed the door, pausing at the stairs for any signs of life. When nothing stirred, Jayda searched for more traps and descended to the second floor. She counted four thieves in the hall of doors, two at the windows, vigilant, and the others scattered bored throughout the room.

She went back upstairs and motioned her companions away from the stairwell.

"Four. Two at the windows, two in the middle of the room—opposite sides. How good a throw are you?" she asked Embarl.

"Fair," he asked.

"That'll do. Embarl and I can toss daggers at the two middle. Minsc, I want you to shoot the guy on the far right, closest to the door. Edwin, do you think you can disable the other?"

"I have several spells that would do the job well," he replied. "Magic missile, acid arrow—oh, the death spell!"

"_Quietly_," she hissed.

"Oh, all right, fine. I suppose a power word will work," he mumbled, and when he didn't say anymore, she hit him. "Sleep, sleep! Power word: sleep!" he hissed angrily as he rubbed his arm. "With all this abuse, it'll be a miracle if I can cast a spell at all."

Jayda led the team down the stairs. She and Embarl slipped into the shadows and moved into position while Minsc and Edwin took their marks. Then, in a blur of motion, two daggers flew across the room and sunk fast in their target's chests. Minsc's arrow hit the intended thief so hard, it went straight through his head and lodged itself in the wall. The fourth thief leapt to his feet but didn't have a chance to scream as the ground beneath him pulsed with a red glow; his head slumped over, a deep and magical sleep taking him. Jayda hopped up, retrieved her dagger from her victim, and slipped behind the sleeping thief; she drew the blade across his throat and lowered him to the ground noiselessly.

Now the danger was sure to begin. A closed door separated them from the foyer where the stairs down to the first level and the door to Mae'Var's bedroom were. She had known the chances of taking the whole guildhouse without alerting the thieves to what was happening was practically impossible, and she was relieved that they had managed to catch even four unaware. Still, once the thieves went on alert, traps and secret passages would be activated. Not to mention, the likelihood of one of her comrades being hurt was increased.

Jayda motioned them all into the hall of doors and brought them to their next partition. She listened for movement on the other side and heard one pair of boots slowly pacing back and forth. She held up one finger, listened a bit longer, and then drew away from the door.

"Minsc, would you like the honors?"

He smiled wide and put his bow away. Then, he drew his two-handed sword and stepped up to the door. With a mighty kick, it slammed open and the thief on the other side nearly jumped out of his skin. He screamed when he saw Minsc, sword raised high. With a heaving blow, the ranger sliced his enemy down the middle and the rest of the group filled the foyer. The door to Mae'Var's room did not open but plenty of activity stirred below them. Filled with his hunger for battle, Minsc barreled down the steps, voice crying out for justice. Jaheira, Anomen, and Aerie followed after him and Edwin, with a disgusted roll of his eyes and a groan, headed up the rear.

Embarl stood with Jayda as she listened for movement on the other side of Mae'Var's door. Part of her was anxious to open it, not wanting to have to look into the snake's cloudy eyes ever again. The other part of her was looking forward to killing him, and that, too, raised a warning in her heart. She was wary of her desire to murder another person, regardless of what they had done to deserve it, for fear it would drive her closer to the taint within.

Jayda glanced back at Embarl and he nodded, daggers poised in readiness. Jayda forced open the door and the thieves spilled into the room, but it was empty. A fire burned in the hearth and a tray of food left half-eaten was on the table. She went to the bed and lightly touched a wrinkled spot. Faintly warm. So Mae'Var had known they had come and fled, had he?

She knew just where she would find him: the dungeon where they had first met.

Jayda and Embarl departed the second floor and joined their friends in the fight against the rest of the guildhouse. Three bodies were slumped in the first room they came to and they followed the sounds of battle to the front of the store. Four more corpses were counted. Minsc was hacking away at the burly storekeeper Gorch and Jaheira was using her quarterstaff to deflect a knife-wielding thief's rapid attacks. Anomen finished off his opponent and went to aid Jaheira. Aerie and Edwin watched from the door.

Minsc hacked Gorch from shoulder to hip and turned to help his druid friend, but Anomen and Jaheira had bested the thief. Jayda nodded to the group and they pressed on to the next room, finding it emptied of enemies. Jayda pushed ahead of them and inspected the stairs to the cellar. Sure enough, it had been trapped. She followed the delicate wire to its source and disabled it.

"No doubt he's gathered the others to his side and waits for us," she told them. "Be on your guard, cover each other's backs, and we'll be fine. It's not an open space down there so there won't be a lot of room to maneuver, but no doubt there are many hiding places. Keep your eyes peeled."

They descended to the cellar.

The first room they came to was empty and as Jayda rounded the corner and saw Mae'Var at the other end of the room, glaring at her, she knew they had been expected. Jayda stood straight and strode forward, her party shuffling behind her. The look of utter betrayal on Mae'Var's face gave her an ounce of satisfaction, but warned her gut that he would lash out ten-fold for her treachery.

Once his cloudy eyes spied Embarl, his calm demeanor seemed to fade away, and rage was etched into his scarred face. One of the thieves beside him started forward but Mae'Var held out his arm to stop him. Jayda checked Embarl's expression and saw that he was sweating, brow creased in a frown, and worried he might crumble under Mae'Var's gaze.

"Come for me, have you?" he asked her. "Treacherous whore. I've still those loyal to me and they have warned me. We'll not lay down for you. Do as you must!" He drew a sinister dagger like the one she'd seen him carving on Lin with. "I will make you beg for death…"

MJae'Var's trap was sprung as thieves leapt from hidey-holes up and down the dungeon walls and ceiling. The group immediately sprang into action. Jayda had no time to see how her friends were faring for Mae'Var instantly lunged at her. She brought her short sword up to parry his lashing dagger, sneaking in attacks with her offhand dagger whenever she found an opening. He would not be so easily dispatched, however, and countered with a second knife just as wicked-looking as his first.

As they danced around the dungeon, Jayda tried to get sights on her friends. Jaheira, Minsc, and Anomen seemed to be fairing well against their attackers. Embarl had slipped to the back to defend the mages and, every time he seemed to be losing, a well-placed spell from Edwin saved his life. Aerie was doing her best to keep up with the action, but Jayda noticed the elf's head swinging wildly with confusion in the chaos.

Mae'Var's face filled her vision and Jayda barely slipped out of reach of his dagger. It glanced off of her black, leather armor, barely missing her side—a punishment for losing focus.

"I won't kill you," Mae'Var promised. "I will keep you alive, scarred and disfigured, and I will cut a new mark into your flesh every day!" He lunged at her, driving her back and in circles as he viciously hacked at her blades. "And I will take you, over and over again, until you are raw and bleeding and beg for a gentle touch."

Jayda grunted as he forced an opening, knocking her dagger out of her hand, and leapt into her space. She managed to slice the side of his right hand, making a red streak across his thumb and causing him to drop his knife. He growled and grabbed her neck, squeezing tightly as he bore down on her. She clawed as his arm and wrist, trying to wiggle into a position where she could use her sword.

Mae'Var's tongue flashed viciously between his lips as he tightened his grip on her throat, malice in his eyes.

"I will keep you," he purred as she struggled, and there was momentary delight in his eyes as she gagged and gasped. "You will never leave my side, and no one will ever want you… not after what I will do to you. And since you were a whore for that fool Gaelan and that devil Renal Bloodscalp, you will be my whore… and my pleasure will be your pain."

Mae'Var sneered and pressed his fingers into her throat like he had claws, causing a gurgle of pain to escape her lips. He smiled and bent to kiss her, but the sudden move and her struggling had finally put her in the position she wanted; she kneed him in the groin, loosening his grip. With all of her energy, she pushed off the wall and head-butted him. He reeled back in confusion but gasped as her shortsword plunged up through his gut and into his chest. She ripped the blade out, turned the sword around, reeled back, and punched him hard in the face.

Mae'Var dropped to the ground, dead. Jayda gasped for air, chest heaving as she regarded his wide-eyed corpse on the stone floor. With a snarl, she spat on him, and limped forward to help her friends.

The last of the battle ended shortly after and a score of assassin bodies littered the dungeon floor. She quickly surveyed the group to make sure everyone was accounted for. Anomen and Minsc were covered with blood, but with the way they moved, she doubted any of it was theirs. Embarl, though a bit sliced up, nodded when their eyes met. Edwin was gasping in the back, exhausted from the exertion, and miraculously intact.

As Jayda neared the back, she noticed Jaheira standing over Aerie and she stopped in her tracks, fearing the worst.

"You mustn't let yourself get so wounded, Aerie," Jaheira said. "I won't always be here to bandage you, you know."

"I'm a healer, too, Jaheira," Aerie replied tentatively, voice strained with pain. Jayda sighed in relief.

"And what good are your spells now? You should be more frugal and not cast them all at once," Jaheira lectured.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"And don't stutter," she added. "It doesn't become you."

Jayda found a brief smile, saying silent prayers in thanks that her friends had made it through the night. She started to limp toward the exit, still trying hard to catch her breath, when a hand shot out from one of the make-shift cages.

"Please," a person cried. "My lady! You have done it! The tyrant is dead! For once a death in this hell is welcome! Please… please, will you release me?"

Jayda peered into the cage and then forced open the door. Lin stumbled out, scarred and bloody but very much alive.

"Lin…" she breathed.

"Aye," he replied, swallowing awkwardly. His lip had been sliced almost to his chin and the awkward healing had slightly impaired his speech. "Mae'Var… accused me of stealing… from the guild. But I never touched the coffers!" he cried, desperate for the truth to be heard. "I was tortured… my pleas of innocence laughed at… all because he had perceived my guilt when I could not explain the missing gold. He said I was to be an example. Me. His own cousin."

"No love lost, I see…"

Lin scoffed. "You know there is no such thing as love for that monster…" He leaned closer. "I know how he haunted your steps. I know how you must have despised him. As I."

Jayda slowly nodded, recalling with disgust the way he looked at her, how he touched her, his vile tongue on her skin. She shook the thoughts out of her head and offered an arm to Lin.

"Can you walk?" she asked and he nodded. "Then walk with me… and let us leave this place."

Lin nodded and the group gathered, climbing the stairs and exiting the guildhouse. The rain washed the blood that covered them down the drain, and with the blood went all thoughts of the pathetic life of the madman called Mae'Var.


	9. A Night With Gaelan Bayle

**WARNING: Sexual content below. It starts somewhere near the middle. Once *spoiler* they kiss *end spoiler*, you should skip to the end if you do not enjoy reading intimate scenes.**

**A Night With Gaelan Bayle**

Gaelan Bayle immediately pulled on one of his crooked smirks when the red-cowled Jayda entered his home. She wasn't wearing her armor, which told him this was purely a social call. He noticed, also, a box under her arm. The shady attendant silently excused himself when he saw his master rise from behind the desk and come around the front of it.

"Coo! Didn't expect to see ye so soon, me Lady. Me sources say ye well on ye way to the sum me friends require. That's right good to hear," he said as he leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "And I be relieved to see that business with Mae'Var handled… Renal reported well of ye."

Jayda pushed the red cowl away from her dark red hair and gave the tresses a good shake to get the bounce back in. Gaelan watched her observantly, sizing her up for business' sake… and, also, because he really enjoyed looking at her. Since her gaze was elsewhere, he took liberty in lingering on her curves—on her thighs and curving rear, on her slim waist, on her breasts. He desperately wanted a look under that red tunic of hers.

"What is it I can do for ye?" he asked. She finally turned her gray eyes toward him.

"There are so many things you could do for me, Gaelan," she replied, "but I doubt you'd do any of them."

He grinned again.

"Not much I can be tellin' ye 'bout ye friend or me friends," he confirmed, "but if there's anything else, I be happy to do me part."

Always professional—that was the way, even for a Shadow Thief. Denying his nature to stomp across the room and take her right there on his sofa was hard, and, by his authority as a Shadow Thief, he would've been able to if she were any other woman. But she wasn't. She was Jayda. His superiors were interested in more than her gold… She was not to be harmed, not to be hassled, and not by anyone. In the shadows, they watched her progress, and she never disappointed them.

"I'm leaving Athkatla for awhile," she told him. "I'm going out to the Windspear Hills and to the de'Arnise Keep under siege. I've nearly half the sum your... 'friends'… require, and I do not wish to carry it across the forest."

"Reasonable, if I ever heard of such."

"If I leave it with you, can I trust that it will go toward my fee for your friends?"

"Of course," Gaelan replied. "I'll lock it up in me personal safe. No hands will touch it—not even me own." He meant it, too. They wanted her allegiance and this would be a mere show of good faith and a perfect opportunity to gain her trust.

Jayda crossed the room and produced the heavy box, offering it to him. He didn't take it and, instead, pushed off of the desk and motioned her to follow him upstairs. They climbed the stone steps into his bedroom where he stopped next to his bed, pushed aside a painting, and whisked open the hidden vault.

"There ye go," he announced, stepping aside so that she could install the coin herself. She heaved it in and watched him lock the safe and replace the painting. "I'll keep it closed 'til ye return."

"Thank you," she replied, "if you keep your promise."

"Coo! Me word is as good as the gold ye just stashed," he told her, pulling on another charming smirk.

"You'll forgive me if I have a hard time trusting you. I'm only accepting your help because I have no other choice," she reminded him and fixed a hard stare on him. "We may have been getting on before, but the fact remains I know nothing about you, or your friends, or what twenty-thousand gold could possibly do to save Imoen. And if you cross me…" She let the warning hang in the silence.

He was so amused, watching her bark out her sarcastic reminders and mumble her threats; all he heard, however, was her ramble through her insecurities. He imagined her point to him was that she didn't trust him, but the only point she made was that she was afraid—afraid for her friend, of the strangers offering her aid, of leaving nearly ten thousand gold with him.

"Well then, me Lady, we'll just have to get to know one another, then, and ye'll feel better about this arrangement." He stepped around her and went to the open window to gaze out at the Copper Coronet down the street. "There, uh, anyone waitin' on ye to come home?"

She hesitated before answering—debating on whether or not to leave, was his guess; it was dangerous business to be meddling alone with men of his nature. He wished he could put her mind at ease and tell her no harm would come to her, but he enjoyed watching her survival instincts twitch under his mysterious guise.

To his delight, she crossed to the window and took in the view while he took in her.

"No one is waiting," she replied. "They were still dining when I left."

"Bold answer, me Lady," he said.

"I can take care of myself."

"I've no doubts that be true."

"You've lived here all your life?"

"Since the day me mum brought me into this world just on the other side of the Slums," he replied, playing along with her ask-and-tell game. He pointed out the window to the northwest. "Ye see the three smokestacks?"

"Aye."

"I grew up just behind them, I did." He anticipated her next question and answered it ahead of time. "There were three of us. Me older brother left the house when I was just a lad, so it was just me an me little sister growin' up."

"The boy from earlier, your nephew?"

"Yep, he's Garina's."

"Do you have any children?" she asked. He smirked again.

"None that I know of, but ye never know…" he replied in a low tone.

"No Mrs. Bayle?"

"Not now and never has been, that I can answer with certainty." His eyes flicked to her for just a second. "Well, there was one night unaccounted for, but me friends assure me I didn'a do anythin' to haunt me later."

Jayda leaned onto the window sill thoughtfully and the cool night air brought breezes in to brush their skin.

"What is it you do?"

"I do many things mutually beneficial to—"

"That's not a real answer," Jayda interrupted.

"Coo!" he howled, leaning closer with one arm on the windowsill. "Me Lady knows I cannot say anythin' that might give up me friends." He held her gaze when she looked at him. "Have ye an opinion now? That's what these questions be for, it'n it?"

She looked somewhat annoyed that she'd been caught, but he was perceptive, and he was sure she understood that.

"Do you have any questions for me then?" she countered.

"I don't need to know anythin' to do business with ye."

This time, she grinned. She changed positions and leaned against the sill, lips holding that cocky smirk and keen eyes glinting.

"Really? Is that why you stood ogling me in the shadows before you approached?"

"I had to know it was you I be lookin' for," he replied calmly.

"And what is your excuse once you were certain?" she asked. "You haunt my inn and always seem to know my business."

"First of all, the Coronet belongs to the Slums an' I was goin' there long before ye ever dreamed to be comin' to Athkatla," he told her. "Second, I be yer handler, and it's me job to know ye business."

"And what's your excuse now?"

He checked her out again, just to enforce her point, and gazed especially long at her breasts slowly rising and falling under the tunic, and at her lips poised at the end of a question. He noticed the timid glimmer in her expression when his eyes returned to hers.

That little motion gave it all away. She played confident while she believed she had the upper hand, but part of her was nervous and shy. That made him want her even more and, after that tiny tremor of uncertainty, he was starting to believe he might have her.

"Then a question, since ye caught me," he agreed, enjoying the game. Truthfully, there wasn't much he imagined he didn't already know about her, but there was one thing he was curious about. "How is it ye stand that nobler-than-thou, scruffy-necked knight's constant prattle? He go on about himself all the time and ye just sit there an take it?"

Quite unexpectedly, Jayda's mouth pulled into a bright smile and she laughed. It turned him on a little more than it should've. A dangerous part of his brain started thinking he might do more than let something happen—if it did—and that he might actually go for it.

"I like Anomen," she told him. "He's a bit prideful and sometimes thinks too highly of himself, but he has an innocent, hopefully view of the world and his role in it. It's refreshing." She glanced at her hands. "I've forgotten how it feels to live in such a bright world as he."

"Innocent," he agreed, "if not naïve. Can't the lad even figure out he wields a mace, not a sword?"

Another bright smile. "So you are watching me," she mumbled like she'd discovered something. He stepped into her and saw the uncomfortable and nervous look suddenly and openly splayed across her face as she became trapped between the window and his body.

"As ye pointed out," he reminded her, dropping his gaze to her mouth. He tugged at the strings on her tunic and his knuckles brushed lightly across her breasts.

Her muscles snapped with speed and she grabbed his wrist tightly.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply.

His rogue reflexes slipped out of her grasp and he snatched up her wrist instead. She went for him with her free hand, but he escaped her hold and secured her. She managed to catch a fistful of his tunic. He could feel her rapid pulse in her wrist.

"Ye came to store ye gold, an ye did," he whispered. "But ye stayed, and that makes me wonder."

"You shouldn't wonder," she snapped.

"No?" He mashed her palm against her left breast. "Ye feel ye heart pounding, don't ye?" The look on her face told him she did feel it. "Ye already decided ye don't trust me, an there be nothin' I can say to make ye feel otherwise. Why linger?"

She didn't answer and he felt the tension in her arms ease up just a bit.

"I guess I caught ye," he muttered. "Now it be too late to leave. Are ye sure there ain't nothin' I can do for ye?" He watched her eyes drop down to his exposed chest and linger for a moment before lifting to his eyes. He leaned closer.

"Now that you mention it…" she whispered, but he did not let her finish that thought.

Gaelan closed the short distance between them and kissed her, open-mouthed and tongue seeking the hot depths of her mouth. There was a sharp inhale at the sensual touch, followed by a quick move to the folds of her tunic; he yanked it open and pushed it over her shoulders where it hung in the crook of her arms. He was pleased to feel her lean into him and kiss him back but he was very much in charge of the passions they let loose, and he directed every sensuous movement. So when he tugged her closer and kissed her deeper, hotter, wetter, she groaned and accepted his mouth and tongue.

If Gaelan had been the type to notch his bedpost, he would've put her at the top. A Shadow Thief would bed a Bhaalspawn. He was overflowing with excitement at the mere idea of it. There were so many things he could do for her. He was anxious to try them all.

Gaelan drew his mouth across her cheek and nibbled her earlobe, traced the shape of her ear with his tongue, and then dipped his head into her neck. She shivered and her skin burned hotly; he heard the tremor in her deep breaths. He groaned as he suckled and nipped her flesh, letting his hands roam freely over her curves and exposed skin; when she gasped, he kissed her mouth again, hooking her leg up onto his hip so that she could feel exactly how much he wanted her.

At some point during the exchange, Gaelan realized he was far too aroused to take it slow. He had wanted her for too long, fantasized about having her too descriptively, and now it was practically painful to hold back. So it became his task to rid them of their clothes and delay what they both wanted no more. So his deft fingers quickly worked her tunic and belt off, lingering a little too long on her pelvis. He dropped to his knees to remove her pants and boots, and somehow got distracted with other parts of her anatomy.

He enjoyed her short breaths and pleasured gasps and reveled in the trembling of her legs as he licked the juices from her thighs. Then he was on his feet and ripping at his clothes. When she joined in to help him, he kissed her lips and forced his hands to continue their task lest he pull her into him and delay them once more.

"Ah… Jayda," he whispered hotly against her cheek, stumbling out of his pants. He tightened his arms around her and turned them around, laying her back onto his bed. He crawled on top of her, exploring every detail now that there was nothing in the way of their passion. His breathing hitched as her fingers brushed his erection, provoking his need.

She muttered his name as he slipped inside of her, a little catch in the back of her throat indicating her surprise and pleasure. He nipped at her collarbone and worked his way up as he set a steady pace. His mind was utterly blank; he could barely think. He just felt everything so intensely that it overflowed from his skin, overtaking his senses. She felt utterly amazing—the softness of her skin and curves, the way her body hugged him so tightly, the gentle rake of her nails on his back and arms and thighs. Her body was beautiful, sensual, powerful. He couldn't stop touching it.

His blurry vision focused on her face, at her parted lips swollen from his zealous kisses, her flushed cheeks, and her half-closed gray eyes that glistened with desire. Her wild, red hair tangled messily to frame her face and, just like the goddess Sune, she couldn't have been more beautiful in any other moment.

Lust drove him harder and faster until she was crying out, calling his name, and he groaned and muttered hers huskily in her ear. The climax hit them hard, one after the other, and left their bodies trembling in the aftermath.

Gaelan slowly lifted his head to look into her eyes, wondering what her reaction would be. The realization that he had crossed the line hit him in full force and he found himself hoping she didn't regret it. If she regretted it, all of the trouble this was going to cause would be for nothing. But he didn't read regret in her eyes, or even disgust. She was relaxed and… content.

A cold breeze blew in from the window and they both shivered. Then, Gaelan realized what that meant: the window had been open the whole time. He cursed and jumped up, closing and latching the shutters. Not that it mattered. Anyone who was watching would know what they had done. Even still, her prolonged visit would have provoked questions, so regardless… he was screwed. He could only hope that the Shadow Master would… understand.

"What is it?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. He motioned to the window.

"I don't think me superiors will be happy with mixin' business and pleasure," he admitted.

"Will you get in trouble?" she asked, and her eyes lit up with amusement. He doubted she understood just how much trouble he could get into, but wasn't about to tell her. And as he stared at her, his worries seemed to ebb.

"It was worth it," he replied breathily and then smiled. He snuffed all but one torch and crawled into bed, afraid to ask if she planned on leaving. He wanted her to stay. Lovers, even without the emotional attachment, could still relish the other's company, right?

"Are you going to throw me out?" she asked, curling against his chest as he pulled her into his arms.

"Rest assured, there be many a thing I intend to do to ye, and none of them have anythin' to do with ye leavin'."

They laid in the quiet until their breathing slowed and the torch burned down. On the verge of sleep, he felt her hand gliding over his stomach and abdomen, down his side and thigh, then back up to his chest, across his shoulder, and along his arm.

"Gaelan," she whispered lazily. He tilted his head to look at her and noted her tired eyes were mostly closed, concentrated on his flesh. "What happened to you," she asked, "to earn you such scars?"

"That's a long story, me Lady," he murmured distantly, remembering his past. How long had it been since he had thought of those days, since he had been a young Shadow Thief in a dangerous city? "A story, I be sure, nearly as long as yer own."

"Mm," she agreed, mostly asleep. "Someday… tell it to me…"

Gaelan listened to the soft sound of her breathing as she slept. He propped himself up on his elbow and let his eyes and free hand explore her body one more time. Of course he had noticed the scars, the weathering, the unique lines and dimples and marks, but he had never before thought of it as she seemed to. Her body had a story to tell and it was a story he had heard in rumors, from his superiors, and idle chatter. If he had never heard those tales before, he would know them just by looking at her body.

He traced a sinister scar that hooked across her pelvis and curled into her stomach. How had she received it? How had she survived it? He cringed as his finger glided across the rippled flesh, knowing how painful it must have been. He looked down at his own body and at some of the uglier stories his told.

But now was not the time for memories, he told himself. He had a beautiful woman in his bed, curled up against his side, and he was neglecting her. He slid down next to her and pulled a blanket over their naked bodies. He wrapped his arm over her and closed his eyes, pushing out thoughts of the consequences and thinking only of the choice.


	10. Reflections

**Reflections**

Gaelan Bayle stood before the Shadow Master and delivered his report as normal. The Bhaalspawn Jayda had left a portion of their required fee with him, indicating her commitment to them, and she and her friends had left Athkatla to make coin in the east.

"The de'Arnise Keep, she mentioned, and possibly to the Windspear Hills—all of the likely locations have been sent a messenger to tell the Thieves operatin' in those areas to watch fer her," Gaelan told him.

As the Shadow Master responded to what he had heard, Gaelan's mind drifted back to the night before she'd left. When he'd awoken, he'd found she was gone. How many women had woken up to find him absent? How many women had he awoken to find still there and wished they'd gone? Yet when he looked at the empty space beside him, he felt a little disappointed. Arledrian, his aid, had appeared soon after, asking with a smirk if he, too, planned to draw a bath. He must've read the confusion on Gaelan's face, because he quickly told him that "his lass" was in the bath. So Gaelan immediately committed to the cause of cleanliness and further entertained "his lass" with a watery round of love-making.

"Gaelan?" the Shadow Master said, pulling him from his thoughts. "Was there something else?"

Gaelan cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He was a thief and a scoundrel, but he was loyal and honest to the right people. He knew keeping his tryst from his superiors would only worsen the punishment when it came.

"I crossed the line," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I mixed business an' pleasure."

The Shadow Master was quiet for a drawn out moment and his face was unreadable. Finally, his head tilted down to the papers in his hands and he began sifting through them.

"I know," he replied calmly. "Is there a problem?"

"It'n there?"

The Shadow Master lifted his brows. "Is there more to it than just pleasure?"

"No," he replied.

"Then I don't see the issue. The lady has done nothing she hasn't wanted to."

Gaelan reflected on that for a long moment. Perhaps, because Jayda was a special situation, their affair was being handled in a special way.

"It's that simple, is it?" Gaelan asked.

"Are you worried, Gaelan? Don't be. I'm not deceiving you; you did not try to deceive me. Unless you're hoping for reassignment?"

"If I asked, would ye do it?"

The Shadow Master inhaled deeply and thought for a moment. Finally, he shook his head.

"No. _Is_ that what you're asking?" he wondered and Gaelan shook his head. "I didn't think so." Before he could walk away, the Shadow Master spoke. "You'll need to careful, Gaelan. Our enemies would likely use her to get to you… to get to us. Or, they might use you… to get to her. Regardless of the true nature of your relationship, even a perceived nature can cause problems for us."

Gaelan narrowed his gaze on the Shadow Master. That was exactly why he figured he would be punished. What was happening made no sense.

"Yer warnin' me of things I already know. So why the hesitation? Why the pardons?"

"Are you asking to be punished?" he countered coolly. "If she likes you enough—no, trusts you enough to sleep with you, then that can only help our cause… provided you play your cards right. I know you. You have always done good work for me in the past. Do I approve? No. Will I turn a blind eye to this sort of behavior in the future? No. But right now… what's done is done. We must be careful."

"And later?" he asked, wondering if this was only a temporary delay in punishment. The Shadow Master shook his head.

"You just do your part. Do your part, and this will be forgotten."

Gaelan nodded, bowed, and left.

/

Jayda sighed and surveyed her party. They were worn, exhausted and thrashed, but whole. Minsc sat with his back to the wall, carefully sharpening his sword. Jaheira stood in the hall by the window with her eyes closed, letting the breeze hit her; no doubt, she was in a meditative stance, allowing nature to give her strength. Anomen was lying on the bed, one hand across his wounded stomach while Aerie reapplied bandages and salves. Edwin was huddled by the fireplace, trying to get warm. Nalia sat in a chair, staring at the floor, a bleak expression on her tear-streaked face.

"_I… I should have told you previously," Nalia said, "but others refused to help when they found out."_

Her words echoed in Jayda's mind as she remembered the events leading up to their predicament. The de'Arnise grounds were quiet when they had arrived. Even the rustle of the trees felt eerie. They found the fort base to the west where Nalia was waiting with a small contingent of soldiers, all pouring over the castle plans.

"_We are beset by trolls. A vast number of them," she explained and Jayda felt her heart sink. "Worse yet, there are some kind of snake creatures with them. Captain Agru thinks they were driven from the north by elves."_

"_Why would they come here?" Edwin asked. "Trolls are not intelligent creatures and they do not hunt in packs. They typically keep to the mountains. An orchestrated attack like this is beyond them."_

"_The snake-like creatures," Jaheira said, "must be yuan-ti. They could have rallied the trolls."_

"_But for what purpose?" Edwin barked impatiently._

"_Whatever the reason, they are here," Nalia exclaimed. "We must do something quickly. Most of the servants escaped but… my family is still unaccounted for. My aunty and my father are both still inside."_

"_If we march through the front door, it'll be a slaughter," Jayda said. "Is there another way inside?"_

"_There is a secret door that allows entry along the base of the keep wall—a servants passage if you will. I sometimes use it to sneak out of the Keep."_

Nalia's entry had led them inside where the putrid smell of troll and dead flesh filled their nostrils. They found Daleson, a servant, cowering in the kitchens. He was able to give them more information concerning the Keep.

"_Lord Arnise was alive this morning, and I saw him taken into the Keep by a real big troll, biggest I seen. Probably took him down to the cellars. He fought bravely, but it wasn't enough…"_

They had fought their way to the front of the Keep and released the mechanism, lowering the bridge. The rest of the de'Arnise soldiers flooded the courtyard to die, but not before the troll and yuan-ti forces were dispatched. A snake-mage did not die without first inflicting serious damage upon them, and Jayda and her friends barely managed to get into the Keep before the high-wall's palisades were brought down with the bridge, collapsing the doors to the inner Keep.

Anomen had pushed Jayda out of the way of a falling stone, earning himself a serious side injury.

Jayda checked Aerie's progress and noted the faint light of healing magic in her hand. They were all exhausted and nearly magically spent. If they had been prepared for trolls, they would have brought acid-tipped weapons and arrows, or torches. But they were not prepared for such a foe, and their only hope to end the threat was by magical means.

Jayda closed her eyes and pretended she didn't see the healing spell. They had made a pact to save the mages' strength to dispatch the trolls, but Anomen had been wounded because he had tried to protect Jayda. She could not deny him aid.

"_A secret passage in my aunt's bedroom will take us to the cellar."_

So Nalia had led them there. The door was barred and the lock broken, so it took an unnecessarily burst of Minsc's energy to open it. Inside, a soldier bravely grasped a pike, ready to die. Upon seeing Nalia's face, he stuttered and stammered gratefully, blushing with surprise and joy.

"_Mistress Nalia! Is it… is it really you?" he asked, and there was no mistaking the love in his eyes. But Nalia managed not to see it._

"_Hendron, you're alive! What are you doing here?"_

"_I barricaded us in to protect your Aunt, my lady. I ha—"_

"_Oh, 'tis like a nightmare! Yet more hooligans tracking their filth through the halls. We shall have to vacation for a tenday while the whole building is deloused. I'll tell you the same as your leader; you'll get no more from me than condemnation. Marching into a home as though you belong… what is the world coming to?"_

"_Aunty, please!" Nalia called. "We have come to rescue you!"_

"_Nalia?" the woman gasped, emerging from her hiding place. Her wrinkled face was caked with make-up and her clothes looked flashy enough for a Calimshan sheik. "Oh, my dear," and she almost sounded sincere, "what have you brought home with you this time? I have told you about consorting with such creatures. You will only end up like your mother!"_

"_Aunty!" Nalia exclaimed._

"_Lessers?" Edwin balked, utterly offended to be lumped into the same circle as his companions._

"_Lessers?" Minsc repeated in a booming voice. "Many a servant has undoubtedly fought and died defending this place! Defending you!"_

"_As they should," she huffed. "What else do I pay them for?"_

"_The measure of a person is the quality of their life and how they live it," Jaheira educated, "not how they are judged."_

"_Of course you measure worth that way," the old woman said haughtily, "you have no choice. Realize, however, that your scale is within the larger truth: some are born to rule, others to follow. Respect the borders that fate has placed them within. I meant no disrespect other than that which you are already due."_

"_Aunty!" Nalia shrieked again._

_The group gaped at her. The audacity of this noblewoman had no bounds, not even to her saviors. Jayda had to extend her arm and physically hold Edwin back._

"_Now, are you going to stand around here drooling from slack jaws or are you going to do your, ah, duty, I believe, and take me to safety?"_

_Jayda put her arm out again and caught Edwin by the robes._

"_I believe the worthy can find their own way," Jayda said with as much restraint as she could manage under the circumstances. "The way is clear…" she mumbled, and as the noblewoman shuffled past them, she added, "mostly."_

_The lady hmphed and stomped off, turning only to glare at Nalia expectantly. Hendron waited at her side, lightly pushing on her arm._

"_We should go, my lady…" he said gently._

"_I'm sorry. But I won't go until I've found my father." She nodded to the soldier. "Please continue to look after her."_

Jayda rubbed her tired eyes and pushed her fingers back through her tangled hair. Now they waited in the bedroom—waited for the mages to gather some ounce of mana, for Anomen's wound to mend enough for him capable of battle, for their swords to be sharpened and arrows to be notched, and for energy to find its way back to their weary bodies. They waited, thankless, to face more danger. Jayda scoffed at the ungrateful old woman; it was not for herself that she wanted to strangle her, but for her companions whose morale was lost because of the self-righteous venom she'd spewed.

Jayda's head thunked back against the wall. Hendron's last words had not helped them to find the courage they needed.

"_Lord Arnise," he said, "is still at the mercy of the beasts below. I believe they are trying to get him to reveal something about a cache of gold."_

Why, she wondered, would trolls and yuan-ti care anything for a cache of gold? There was something else at work, that was for certain. She didn't like leading her friends into such unknown dangers, and the stress pressed into her brain and wrinkled her forehead. Why? Why? She hated not knowing what the cause here was.

"My lady," Anomen began as he sat up. "I believe I am fit for travel."

Jayda got to her feet and slid her shortswords back in their respective belt loops. The rest of her companions followed her lead. None of them said a word. Nalia opened the secret door and led them down a dark corridor to another secret door that opened up into a small room with a spiral, stone staircase. Then, they descended.

The tail of a yuan-ti swayed back and forth, its back to them, and they could hear its heavy breath and low hissing. Jayda signaled to Minsc, who immediately notched an arrow. The serpent twitched and turned too late; the arrow struck its head, plunging halfway through the other side, and it fell to the ground in a heap.

They proceeded quickly into the room as the door flung open. A tall, leering troll growled as it saw the dead guard, and he raised his arms high as he let loose a foul cry. He had to duck to enter the room, but even as he crawled through the small space, Jaheira shuffled forward and thrust the butt of her quarterstaff into its gut, knocking him back. Minsc filled her space as she retreated, arms wound back for a powerful swing. He released as the troll came up again, slicing through the monster's arm and chest. The severed limb plopped to the ground and rolled like a spongy, dead lump, and the monster howled angrily.

Minsc backed away as the troll screeched and stumbled aimlessly into the ground. Jayda snatched the torch out of Nalia's hand and darted forward, thrusting it into the festering wound on the troll's chest. He reared back, easily catching fire, and screamed wildly as the flames overtook him.

The worst thing one could do to a troll is to set it on fire while it is not in its incapacitated, regenerative state. It flails, thrashes, and catches everything near it on fire. But Jayda knew that they stood little chance in the cramped room, so she used the momentary reprieve from a direct attack to slip into the next room.

"Come on!" she snapped, waving her friends one by one through the door.

But she did not lead them to safety. On the other side, three more trolls came hissing at them, arms extended and fingers wiggling anxiously for blood. The group scattered to the corners of the room that, Jayda noted, appeared to be some ancient form of a torture chamber. Old iron maidens lined two walls, and tables with strange, sinister devices were pushed out of the way.

Anomen barely blocked the first blow from a troll and the weight of the attack on his wounded side nearly brought him to his knees. Nalia rushed up and slashed at the back of the troll's knees with her dagger, turning its vengeance momentarily on her. That gave Anomen an opportunity to strike, and he smashed the beast's shoulderblade with his mace.

Minsc and Jaheira worked in concert with one another against the second troll. Jaheira would use her quarterstaff to parry its flailing arms and then knock him back, allowing Minsc to come in to cleave the beasts limbs.

Jayda intercepted the third troll as he made his way to the mages. She slashed his arm and spun to the side, making a quick series of cuts on his thigh and hip. He roared and turned to her, swinging with rage. She ducked and parried, landing two more blows before her short sword was knocked out of her hand. The troll bore down on her, trapping her against one of the tables. His knobby fingers fought her dagger, desperately trying to get at her throat; she kicked wildly, but it did nothing to deter him. He came at her, mouth gaping to bite her and a horrible screech accompanied the acrid breath.

Reaching back, her fingers touched something, so she grabbed it and struck, plunging a sickle into his eye. Her dagger flashed forward across his throat, carving an X into his skin. He stumbled back, shrieking, clutching his neck.

"Edwin!" Jayda screamed.

A moment later, a ball of fire engulfed the troll and his shrill grew even louder. With a grunt and an angry kick, Jayda knocked him back into an iron maiden. There was a sickening crunch as the spikes speared him from the back. She spun and kicked the door closed and the creature shrieked no more.

Aerie used a magical, acid arrow to finish off Minsc and Jaheira's troll—or what was left of it. Minsc had hacked off so many limbs, the beast had become a stump of a creature writhing on the dungeon floor. So the group turned to help Anomen and Nalia, who were struggling under the ferocity of their opponent.

Jayda flipped her dagger around and threw it, sinking the blade into the back of the beast's head. Minsc took the monster at the knees, watching it drop to the ground on its shortened legs. Now level with Anomen's chest, the troll understood its vulnerability; the head of the mace crushed its collarbone and shoulder. It howled pathetically and he brought his mace down again, creating a deep dent in the monster's face.

It slumped over and the group backed away so that Edwin could dispose of it. Jayda glanced over at Anomen and noted his hunched stance and raged breathing. She could tell by his expression that he was in a lot of pain. Gritting her teeth, she motioned to get Aerie's attention and then pointed to Anomen. The elf nodded and went to treat him the best she could.

The door to the next room began thumping wildly. Jayda retrieved her weapons then recruited Minsc and Jaheira to help her barricade it; they tipped over the tables and pushed them up against the door, reinforcing them with boxes, crates, and anvils. Soon, the door snapped and an angry set of claws lashed through the splintered wood, followed by a maw of gnashing teeth and then another paw.

The door shuddered again and the tables slid back. Jayda, Jaheira, Minsc, and Edwin all rushed up to shoulder the blockade.

"Minsc!" Jayda cried, and the ranger drew back, notching his bow.

The door shook one more time and a bigger gap was opened. Minsc fired away, hitting one of the strange, vicious creatures. Thump! He loosed another arrow and struck home. Thump! The door splintered away and one of the dog-beasts leapt through the gap. Minsc shot it down and it yelped, falling onto the barricade. Before he could notch another arrow, however, a second beast jumped over the dead.

Aerie cried out and let fly a mighty spell. In the middle of the air, the creature burst into one hundred thousand pieces and disintegrated. She gaped at what she'd done, and didn't notice Minsc approach her until he clapped her shoulder. She jumped, surprised, and stared wide-eyed up at him.

"Thank you, Aerie," he said sincerely. She nodded, still evidently overwhelmed at herself.

Jayda leapt over the barricade and stuck her short sword in the brain of one of the dying creatures, Minsc's arrow stuck deep in its maw. Nalia, with Anomen under her arm, stumbled to the room as Minsc helped clear the doorway.

"This is it," Nalia said. "This is the antechamber. There are cells there," she motioned to the right. "On the other side of that door," she pointed to the left, "is an old audience chamber."

Jaheira shimmied to the back to check the cells but came back shaking her head.

"There are only bones and corpses," she said solemnly. "No survivors."

Nalia gasped and fell to her knees, tears quickly filling her eyes. She curled up, fingers gripping her orange hair, and whimpered.

"This can't be… father…" she muttered. "We're too late? We're… too late?"

Jayda frowned at her, remembering Imoen's words in her dream. _You're too late… You will come too late._ She shut her eyes tight and banished the memory. She couldn't be too late. She wouldn't be! She had fought her way here, to this moment! She had fought all of this time, all of her life! Sarevok and his minions, the very blood in her veins, all to let it end here? Did she have no power? Was she so cursed that everyone in her life was meant to suffer?

Jayda flew to the unopened door and smashed through it, seeing nothing but death in her rage. On the other side, a mighty troll turned to her, two more flanking his either side. For a moment, she saw Sarevok in his place.

"What grrranktal dare face TorGal? You gradunk fight me?" he boomed angrily.

"Come and die, if you are brave enough!" she shouted, brandishing her blades.

"You grrranktal no tell me what be done!" he boomed. "None but Stronger tell TorGal what fregRrrrt be done! What say Rocksmash pack? GweRrl?" He sneered and his guardian trolls pounded their fists into their palms. "You die now!"

Jayda sprinted into the long room; broken columns lined the center of the chamber. She leapt over one that had fallen in her path and kicked off of the top of it, swinging wildly.

In her mind, she fought Sarevok, the wretched Bhaalspawn that dared call her sister. He had been the start of her trouble—the very start. He murdered Gorion, took her home from her, her life from her. She was forced to kill, forced to suffer and make others suffer. She was forced to confront her lineage and then was saddled with the burdens that brought. He hunted her and her friends!

Jayda cut Sarevok down and, in that moment, realized that he was not the one who had hunted her. Irenicus had. He had captured her and tortured her loved ones. He murdered Khalid and Dynaheir. He kidnapped Imoen. Every cruel moment he inflicted on them… she released it back to his visage, hacking away at every little piece of him until he fell numbly to the ground.

But she did not feel avenged. Why? Because neither Irenicus nor Sarevok had started this at all. No… They had acted and deserved to die for what they'd done, but why had they done it? Because of him… because of her dark father.

Bhaal.

Jayda turned her glare to the image of her father and dared raise her blades against the Lord of Murder himself. He grinned and opened his arms wide, accepting her. Accepting death. A voice in the back of her mind whispered, _kill him. Kill him… Kill… him…_ She screamed and her blade slipped through Bhaal's neck, lopping his head clean off his body.

A troll head thunked and rolled across the floor, and Jayda stared numbly at three mangled troll corpses at her feet.

"Jayda…" Jaheira whispered from behind her.

Jayda whirled around to confront her friends and was horrified to see that none of them had joined the battle. She looked at the floor again and at how viciously the trolls had been attacked while she suffered no new wound. Her gaze went to her sword and she inwardly cringed at how it glistened, thickly coated in black blood.

"What… are you?" Anomen gasped.

"I… am Jayda," she replied with a heavy heart, "a daughter of Bhaal."

And then she turned a mournful gaze on the corpse of Lord Arnise, Nalia's father, sprawled over the ancient throne.

She had come too late.

/

Renal Bloodscalp's arrival was not unexpected. Gaelan and the guildmaster usually met once a tenday to talk over dinner. This day, however, was not that day, and yet he came. He came because of the meeting Gaelan had had with the Shadow Master. So when Arledrian ushered Renal into Gaelan's home, a plate of fruits and nuts sat on the coffee table with two cups of hot tea.

"I never can get the drop on you, can I?" Renal asked, amused, as he crossed the living room and took his usual seat on the couch.

"Evenin' Renal," Gaelan said, hands folded behind his back as he stood near his desk, pretending formality was still necessary between them. "And what brings ye here to the Slums tonight, ay?"

"Where's Arledrian suddenly gone to? Won't he be joining us?"

"He's busy," Gaelan replied and made the motion of a pickpocket.

"Ah," Renal signed knowingly. "So Gaelan Bayle, Lord of Athkatla's Slums, bed the new tail that's on everyone's mind not once, but _twice_, I hear."

"So says rumor," he replied with a smile and began a slow and aimless walk around the room.

"You can be vague to the others and silent to the Shadow Master, but you cannot be so cruel to a friend, Gaelan, those are the rules."

"It's none of ye business, or anyone else's."

"Of course it's my business!" Renal insisted. "Now tell me, how was she?"

Gaelan's memory flared at the question and he recalled her glistening skin, hot breath, pleasured gasps, wet center, and the murmur of his name. Renal's laughter brought him out of the trance, and he watched his friend bend over and slap his knee in amusement.

"It's all over your face," the guildmaster told him. "My, she must've been quite the lock to the pick…"

"More like trap to disarm."

"Is that so? You're making me jealous, Gaelan," he declared, plucking a few grapes from the tray and popping them into his mouth. "So was that all? Just a romp through the sheets and then it's done?"

"Me friend, when I have ever left it at just that?" he asked and motioned to one of the pears on the platter. Renal tossed it to him and he snatched it out of the air, taking a juicy bite. "She's a beautiful woman an' I ain't never had her like before. So no, it's not done, unless she be the one to end it."

"Her like before," Renal echoed thoughtfully. "Do you mean the godblood in her veins or the beauty?"

"Take a guess," Gaelan retorted as his friend burst into more laughter. He took a few more bites of his pear while Renal composed himself.

"So there's nothing more to it than that? No twinges of the heart, no butterflies in the gut?"

"Am I woman that I lose meself to soft notions and fast ardor? If ye lookin' for more than sex, ye need be lookin' elsewhere." He finished his pear and tossed the core into a waste bucket. "I still don't understand the Shadow Master. I don't care how special she is; this is too strange, it'n it?"

"You're awfully preoccupied with guilt, Gaelan, for a simple tryst. He pardoned you. Accept it." Renal plucked another grape and then fished some nuts from the provided bowl. But Gaelan couldn't accept it, and it was clear in his wrinkled brow. Renal sighed. "She told him to pardon you."

"Ay?"

"More specifically, she told Arledrian to tell your superiors that she did what she wanted, and you weren't to be blamed. She would hate for them to lose her business over such a simple matter." He shrugged and popped a few nuts, crunching quietly. "In all honesty, he wasn't even that upset. We were all thinking it at one point or another…"

Gaelan pursed his lips and planted his hands on his hips, regarding his friend suspiciously.

"It's the truth," Renal told him and munched more nuts.

"She did that?"

"Aye, she did."

Gaelan shook his head. "Daft girl," he muttered and turned, putting his back to his friend to hide the smile he couldn't stifle.

"She's trying to protect you. I think its romantic," he mumbled thoughtfully.

"Aye, but Renal? Yer an idiot."

Renal shrugged like he couldn't deny it and motioned to Gaelan's pacing. "What is this? Sit down or something." He sighed when Gaelan did not comply. "So it's really just a fling? But she's more to you than that."

"She is," Gaelan agreed, "but no more than that."

Renal narrowed his gaze on him, making him feel uncomfortable. "Bah, you'll miss it when it's over. But after you've denied it so adamantly, I won't let you regret it. Don't worry, though. Have Arledrian comfort you."

Gaelan made a face. "Not likely."

"Don't I comfort you?" Renal asked, as though he had no idea why he'd offended his friend.

"Not how you mean," Gaelan snapped back. "I like the both of ye further than arm's reach."

"Didn't you always say your sword had a longer scope?"

"Oh, aye," he agreed, "but I only unsheathe it when the right doxy to stick comes along."

Renal laughed. "You're a smart man, Gaelan. I could never figure out why you stuck with the Slum-drawl."

"It adds character," he replied with a shrug, smirking. "Why the sudden shift? Ye thinkin' of dueling swords now, Renal? Here I always knew a man who looked for a new, hot sheath every night."

"Like it or not, we may have to get used to it. I hear these Night-Fiends are into strange things, and stranger still," he muttered with a serious sigh. "People are dying every day, and being seduced to their side. And the corpses we come up with are… unnatural, to say the least."

"Is the war going so badly?" Gaelan asked as he plopped onto the couch opposite Renal. His friend's silence answered his question. "Of course it is…"

"We can only rely on your paramour now, on her coin and sword. Otherwise, I don't know how we'll best them. It would take far more resources that we haven't the time gather—not when they seduce the very men from our ranks. This unnatural power they carry… I do not like it one bit."

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Renal finally stood up.

"Well, I'm leaving. I have a nightly engagement with a young, spotless lass by the charming name of Willow."

"Ye sure the name ain't William?" Gaelan asked, glancing over the back of the couch to watch his friend cross to the door. Renal grimaced.

"Definitely not."

"Wasn't it you who said we needed to get used to it?"

"Mm, I see your point." Renal paused, as if to consider it, and then vigorously shook his head. "No, I don't think I can."

"Then I guess you and I shouldn't die then, should we?"

"Excellent plan," Renal exclaimed as he opened the door. "We'll go with that one. Farewell."

And he was gone. Gaelan sighed and stretched his legs before getting up and crossing to his desk. He really didn't relish the thought of being killed or captured by one of the Night-Fiends. He likewise didn't relish the thought of sending Jayda into their nest to win a war for them. That was what bothered him the most. They recruited her for her help, not because of some noble notion to help her. Sure, a service would be provided in exchange for a service performed, but now he wasn't so sure this wouldn't all come back to bite him later.


	11. The Truth Told

**The Truth Told**

The group had gathered in the main hall once a fire had been built in the large hearth and provisions scraped from the kitchen. Jayda sat at the head of the table, the food in front of her untouched, and Minsc and Jaheira flanked either side supportively. Edwin paced behind her so that he could still be warmed by the fire. Aerie was seated between Minsc and Nalia, looking small between a fierce warrior and a strong woman. Anomen stared numbly at Jayda from his position beside Jaheira. They all waited silently for her to speak.

"You all know the prophecy spoken by the wise Alaundo concerning the Time of Troubles," she finally said. "You all have heard it."

"The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his death he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos shall be sewn in their footsteps," Nalia said quietly.

"I am one of those children," Jayda told them. "My foster father spirited my sister, Imoen, and I away from the dark clutches of our heritage, but he was not able to save us from it. Sarevok raised his army and burned the Sword Coast, looking to take Bhaal's place as the new Lord of Murder. We," she nodded to Jaheira and Minsc, "managed to stop him… and send his taint back to Bhaal…"

"I helped," Edwin piped in, still pacing, and Jayda, Jaheira, and Minsc turned to glare at him. "I would have," he insisted and sneered, "if you had not nearly killed me."

"Then… isn't it over?" Aerie asked.

"It's not over," Jayda snapped more harshly than she intended. She shut her eyes and took a moment to compose herself, then opened them and tried again. "I denied the call of Bhaal's blood, but that does not mean the taint has gone. It is in my veins still… and its power calls to others." Her jaw clenched tightly as she waded through subjects she despised to think of. "The mage who captured Imoen, he is one of those who the blood called out to. He captured my friends, killed and tortured—" She paused, assaulted by the horrible memories her words invoked. "He hunts me for my power—a power I cannot use, cannot control. A power I do not want."

"Your… eyes," Anomen whispered. "They glowed brightly with a dark aura I dare not look upon. Why?"

"The spawn of the Lord of Murder are fated to come into their inheritance through bloodshed and misery," Jaheira explained, quoting a scroll from the library at Candlekeep. "It is the hope of their father that only one shall remain alive to inherit his legacy."

"But she has done such good works," Anomen argued, desperately trying to make what he was hearing untrue. "Until now, I have not sensed even an ounce of evil in her or seen it in her actions."

"These offspring," Jaheira continued calmly, quoting from another scroll, "will be aligned good and evil, but chaos will flow through them all."

The silence that followed was heavy and only the popping of the fire dared permeate the tension.

"So you are… evil?" Anomen finally asked, bewildered.

"I do not know," she replied honestly.

She did not think herself to be evil, but she had brought such pain into the world, so darkly touched so many lives and ended so many more. She despised the thought of becoming like Bhaal but every life she took was a service to him and a taint on her soul, regardless of the reason behind the kill. How could she not believe that her life was leading up to some greater destruction, some greater act of wickedness? She would be a fool if she thought she could run from it.

And yet she had tried. She had tried so desperately to run from it. And it found her, again and again.

"Why do you accept this?" Nalia asked. "Why do you allow this blood to rule you? Run from it. Go to peaceful lands and live out the rest of your days apart from this hateful life."

"There is no where I can go where he will not find me," she muttered, finally admitting it to herself. She closed her eyes and a tear slipped down her dirt-smudged cheek.

"So you give in?" Anomen exclaimed, suddenly standing. "You give in to this murder and misery? You," he pointed to Jaheira, "said it yourself, the children of Bhaal come into their power through bloodshed! Every life you take brings you closer to that power! Why do you give in to that fate?"

"Give in?" Aerie echoed, shaking her head. "No. No, don't you see? It follows her, forces her to obey the call in whatever cruel way that it can." She turned her sympathetic gaze to Jayda. "I pity you… I do not believe this is what you want."

"What is it that you want?" Anomen wanted to know. "What are you hoping to accomplish?" He looked to Jaheira and Minsc. "And why, then, do you follow if only endless misery awaits?"

"We follow because she is our friend!" Minsc replied sternly. "Boo and I swore on our dajemma to fight for and protect her, and we will not hold our oaths fulfilled until every foe is slain."

"I see no greater cause than to walk beside her, until it is done or I am dead. I promised Gorion that I would protect her," Jaheira explained. "And in that role, I have come to care for her. I believe in her, but I do not believe this fate is something so easily overcome. If I can help keep her from the brink, then I must do all that I can."

All eyes looked to Jayda.

"Before my capture, I was trying to run from Baldur's Gate and Sarevok's memory, from my father, and the Sword Coast. But now I see that there is no where I can go to truly escape." She inhaled a deep lungful of air. "I want only one thing… to purge the taint from my veins. By my death or some other means, so long as my undoing does not aid another darkness from taking my place."

Jayda felt Jaheira reach under the table and grasp her hand tightly. She clung back, perhaps squeezing too hard, but the druid did not let on to any pain. Tension stirred in the room, thickening uncomfortably in the pressured silence. Anomen, again, was the one to break the quiet.

"Then if that is your quest, I would lend my blade to such a righteous cause," he said sincerely. Jayda's head snapped up in surprise. He bowed his head. "My lady, I would see you free of this taint."

"I would as well," Aerie said.

"And me," Nalia promised.

Jayda sat stone still, and inside her heart was churning painfully. She clutched Jaheira's hand even tighter and then reached for Minsc's, clinging to his burly paw for support. He linked his fingers with hers and held firmly. She was so moved by their promises, she thought her heart might break from the joy. And yet the undulating horror, like a nauseating wave, rose from her gut to fill her chest, knowing that their vows could mean their deaths. She had already taken more than she was ever owed from Jaheira and Minsc, and she had taken all that Khalid and Dynaheir had to give. She wanted no more… not from anyone.

Nalia suddenly threw a piece of stale bread at Edwin as he paced, causing him to monetarily flail and turn an assaulted glare on her.

"What?" he snapped, and then realized the tension at the table. "Oh all right. I, too, swear," he muttered. "Though I would rather see you use this power than destroy it." He tried to pace again but Nalia pegged him with a larger piece of bread. He rubbed his head, mumbling angrily to himself, and cast several deadly glances in her direction.

Jayda sighed with a heavy heart, burdened even more so by their love and acceptance.

/

The reparations of the de'Arnise Keep started slowly, but within two days, most of the servants and groundskeepers had returned, bringing with them hired help to repair the greater damage. Within a tenday, a portion of the Keep had been restored and, depending on where one walked, it appeared as though nothing had happened at all. Other parts of the Keep, however, would take months to fix.

Jayda and her friends had stayed on to help however they could. Minsc and Anomen proved especially useful in the beginning as there were few strong arms left to move bodies and clear rubble. Edwin barked the entire time about the incredible waste of his time the endeavor was, and how he was likely to leave at any moment and suffer the insult no longer. He remained, however, in spite of his nagging.

One night after a long day of work, Jayda found herself in Nalia's company, relaxing on a stone bench in a garden outside the Keep walls. The girls had put their feet in the pond, cooling off from the hot day. The rainy season had quickly departed, forsaking spring, and sweltering days had left everyone miserable.

"How come you do not tan like the rest of us?" Nalia asked, hissing as she rubbed her burned forearms. "It cannot be your elven heritage. Jaheira is a half-elf and even her golden skin has become a deeper brown."

"I do not know," Jayda admitted honestly. "As I grow older, my body changes little, as if the mortality in my veins no longer holds sway."

"I'm… sorry," Nalia said sincerely, wearing an expression as though she were stupid to bring it up.

"Don't be," Jayda said and put on her best smile. "You did not know."

Nalia sighed and hung her head. "Oh Jayda… I don't know what to do."

"About what?"

"My mother, she… she was a caring woman. She often sought the lesser fortunate souls in the cities, bringing what aid she could. She loved to help people. It was her greatest passion."

"I see where you get it from," Jayda said, recalling the noble-daughter's desire to help those around her; when they had first met, Nalia had been stumbling through the Copper Coronet, begging for help from the people she had once offered aid.

"But in doing so, she caught a horrible pestilence and it eventually claimed her life," Nalia recalled sadly. "And now my father is gone, the de'Arnise lands unclaimed, and my family's name on the precipice of ruin. I never wanted this Keep; I never wanted to become like my aunt—self-righteous and snobbish, looking down on everyone around her. I wanted to help people! I wanted to further blend the class divide so that those borders my aunt speaks of no longer exist. But if I do not stand up and take claim, who will? The Arnise legacy will be lost forever, dead with the trolls who sacked our home."

Jayda put a comforting hand on Nalia's shoulder.

"I do not see why your heart is torn, Nalia," she said quietly. "Take your position as head of your father's land. Restore this place and use it to achieve your goals. It has to start somewhere, and what better place than in the house of a noble lady?"

"But then… I cannot help you with your quest…" she said somberly.

Jayda kicked up some water at Nalia's face, splashing her. She shrieked and leaned back, nearly falling over the back of the bench, and Jayda had to lunge forward to catch her. They laughed as they tried to find their balance, finally righting themselves. Nalia wrinkled her reddened nose at Jayda.

"That was devious," she said, reaching down to splash her back. Jayda held up her hands to block the attack. "No fair!"

"You're just not as stealthy as I am, Nalia," she said, squeaking when she peered over her hands and saw more water flying at her. They laughed some more and finally settled down. "Stay," Jayda said seriously. "Your first duty is to your home, and you can help far more lives by following your heart than you can following me…"

Nalia nodded in understanding and the girls sat in peaceful quiet, feet gently swishing back and forth in the cool, clear water.

/

_If you are reading this, it means I have met an untimely death._ The words were burned in Jayda's memory. _I would tell you not to grieve for me, but I feel much better thinking that you would._ Of course she grieved for him. Each and every day, she mourned his death, mourned her false power that couldn't save him, mourned her failure, mourned his stubbornness that believed in her and tried to protect her.

_There are things I must tell you that I might have told you before, but was never given the chance._ That was not the truth, she had discovered. What he had meant to say was that he should have told her but did not because he was afraid and did not know how to face her. At first, she stewed angrily at his neglect, but once she understood the hardship of the matter, her anger became shame that turned into sympathy.

_I am not your biological father,_ he wrote. _That distinction lies with the entity known as Bhaal. For reasons unknown to me, he sought out women of every race and forced himself upon them. Your mother was one of those women. She died in childbirth._

Jayda shut her eyes tightly and let the tears fall for a woman she never knew, for the pain she must have endured. She never even knew her mother's name and had never, up until that point, heard anyone speak even a word about her. How her mother must have suffered trying to bear a godchild into the world.

_I have always thought of you as my child and I hope you still think of me as your father._

Jayda hung her head and cried, picturing his face and imagining the sound of his voice. Though the words burned into her memory were read off of a letter he had left for her, she could see him in her mind, speaking every thought as he inked the parchment. For her whole life, he had been a father to her. She still considered him her father.

_You are a special child._ He wrote, and she heard the whisper of his voice as he tried to get the point across her._ The blood of the Gods runs through your veins._ Jayda shook her head, looking up at the dusky sky. No, no she didn't want it. She didn't want that blood. She wanted to be Gorion's daughter, then and for forever. _There are many who will want to use you for their own purposes._ Why? She was no one. She was a girl from Candlekeep, daughter of an old sage; she was raised in libraries, and grew up a troublemaker. She was no one, a title-less, nameless child. _A man who calls himself Sarevok is the worst danger._ Who was he? What did he have to do with her? She didn't know him. She was nobody. _He knows a great deal about your history… _She didn't know him. _He knows who you are._

Jayda shut her eyes tight, letting the build-up of tears escape. Gorion's letter plagued her memory with all of the others, wrenching out every last drop of emotion she had until she sat a mere husk, hollow and hopeless.

_The blood of the Gods runs through your veins._

_He knows who you are._

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, startled. Quickly swiping the tears from her face, she looked up into the gentle, smiling face of Anomen and readjusted herself in her seat. He sat beside her and they stared over the balcony at the setting sun over the forest's canopy. The de'Arnise lands were quite beautiful when not beset by trolls.

"Did I startle you, my lady?" he asked.

"I was… thinking," she admitted, "perhaps a little too deeply."

"Are you looking forward to returning to Athkatla on the morrow?"

"I am," she confessed. "Although I cannot say the same for Jaheira…"

Anomen inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he began, "for my behavior before. I should have trusted you when you told me honestly who you are. I said many cold things I regret."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Were our positions reversed, I'm not sure I would have been so kind."

"You give yourself little credit."

"I only give what I deserve."

"But that's not true," he insisted kindly, and then relented. "Perhaps, though, you cannot see it. What was it you were thinking of before I interrupted, if I may ask?"

"I was remembering Gorion, my foster father…"

"Good memories, I hope."

She tried to smile. "Some," she choked out. "I was a bit of a troublemaker growing up. I was always getting scolded by him." The corners of her lips twitched upward as she remembered. "But he would always do it with a twinkle in his eye… as though he were silently proud, but knew he shouldn't be proud of deviance, no matter how clever or skilled, and so he would shake his head at me and saddle me with more chores."

Anomen chuckled. "I am hardly surprised. You are a willful person. I cannot imagine anyone capable of restraining all of that determination in a child."

She laughed. "I suppose not. Doesn't make me much of a likeable sort, does it?"

"I disagree," he said shyly, looking down at his hands. "I like you very much."

Jayda tracked the blush in his cheeks and quickly changed the subject. "I can't imagine you were a closet troublemaker, what with how dedicated you are to the Order. Or were you, perhaps, and were reformed by their noble ideals?"

"How much do you know of my Order of the Most Radiant Heart?" he asked, seemingly pleased with the new topic.

"Not very much, to be honest…"

"An army of knights and paladins ready to combat evil wherever it may be found… it is the greatest force for righteousness in Faerun," he said with a faint smile, staring distantly at the moon.

"Except, perhaps, for Minsc," Jayda joked. Anomen laughed, but he almost seemed insulted by the idea. She cleared her throat. "So, you became fascinated by their ideals…?"

"I have always been in awe of the Order, ever since I was a child," he confessed. "I found myself always wanting to follow that path. We exist to serve, but we follow no commands yet those of our hearts and our conscience. I have to admit, the child in me who longed to slay dragons and fight bravely in great wars was drawn to the power behind the Order. 'Tis a rare thing that can stand up to the full array of the Order's armies."

Jayda smiled, momentarily remembering what it was like to innocently dream. Long ago, she had played in the yards of Candlekeep Library, pretending that she was a great warrior in a bloody war, vanquishing the villains of the Sword Coast and saving her hometown from certain doom. But when Jayda grew up, she experienced that war for real. And there was nothing grand or honorable about it; there was no glory, only pain and death and misery.

"I do not understand why the Order does not take control of the Council, personally," Anomen continued, drawing her out of her head. "It could do far more to turn this into a fair and equitable land, don't you think? I mean… think of all the suffering your average commoner must endure. The hunger, the inequity and injustices… the rebellions in the south." He turned to her, talking excitedly. "All things of chaos. Surely these things would not occur with the Order placed in command… a force of true goodness and honest brotherhood."

"Perhaps," Jayda replied, "but there are many things we cannot see or understand until we are put into positions to effect change."

"You speak from experience," he guessed.

Some," she admitted. "Gorion, he… he never told me who I was until it was too late. I lived unknowing of my heritage, my fate, and how I would soon spend my days. One night, he merely whisked me away, but we were waylaid by Sarevok. He was murdered before my eyes…" Jayda saw the sword plunge into Gorion's chest and heard his cry of pain. "Somehow I escaped. Imoen found me… and brought the note that explained it all. He said he might have told me sooner, but never got the chance."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I was angry for a long time. I couldn't understand why he never told me, why he never got around to explaining things, why he didn't prepare me or warn me… but now, when the task falls to my shoulders, I finally understand. When it became my responsibility, I faltered, too." She looked him directly in the eyes. "I did not tell you I was a Bhaalspawn until I had been discovered. I was afraid to burden you all with worries and suffering, to drive you away. If I had not touched that dark power within me and killed those trolls, you would not have been the wiser, and would I have told you? No… I lost my courage to speak as well, satisfied with simpler things."

"Perhaps," he said quietly. "But perhaps you would have."

"I just mean that… I understand it is an easy thing to tell someone else what they should or should not do, should or should not have done when you are not the one who has to make the choice. When you are in their place, however, it is another thing entirely."

"I think I understand," Anomen told her. "Did you also face this feeling when you faced your half-brother, Sarevok?"

Jayda frowned. "Do I end more lives by accepting my destiny?" she wondered aloud. "Or do I end more by running from it?" She turned and offered as genuine a smile as she could muster. "I hope you pass your test, Anomen, and become a great warrior for justice. I hope you make the world a better place."

"My lady," was all he said, and whatever else was in his throat escaped him. He reached out and took her hand, and held it long and tenderly.


	12. Return to Athkatla

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's taken me awhile to post the next chapter. I am in the process of moving to a new apartment, so lots of packing this week and moving this weekend/next week. My updates will probably be a little slow, unless the Muse and I get along REALLY well in this chaos and crank out a bunch of chapters really quick. :P Anyway, I thank you for your patience and understanding, and I hope you will stick with me through this move! :) There's lots left in store!

**Return to Athkatla**

The return voyage from the de'Arnise Keep to Athkatla took two days at a leisurely pace. Ten thousand, five hundred gold was not easy to carry, for that had been the gracious sum of Nalia's reward for their services. To help your friend, she had said. And even with the burdened pace and pressing heat, Jayda still went with a spring in her step. Soon, she would be able to make progress in saving Imoen.

In the back of her mind, however, she also thought of the people in Umar village and the tasks in the Windspear Hills she had been asked to help with. She had what she needed to proceed in saving Imoen, but her heart went out to the others that needed help and she wanted to delay further to help them. But every moment she delayed put Imoen more at risk.

Jayda sighed and blew her hair from her face, silently promising herself to return and do what she could when the business with Irenicus was done.

"Ah, this land is fine, but I wish I could show Boo the fields of Rashemen," Minsc said with a pleasant sigh from somewhere behind her. "We could run free through the snow, though Boo would look some funny in a drift, I tell you." He laughed to himself and his hamster squeaked.

"You are from Rashemen?" Aerie asked, amazed. "I had—I had thought such a land was the stuff of fable."

"No, it is as real as Minsc, though even larger!" he replied, and Jayda smiled to herself. "It lies far in the direction of the sun at morning. Ah, but it has been long since I left it."

"Why would you ever travel so far from home?" Aerie wanted to know. "I—I was torn from mine and had no choice."

"I was on my dajemma," he told her, "a journey to prove my manhood! Oh, we were a pair, me and my witch! I was to watch over Dynaheir and bring her home in… in safety." The mood quickly became somber and Jayda stopped smiling. "Oh Boo, I can never return to Rashemen!" Minsc suddenly declared. "I am proven unworthy! I am no man and you are no hamster… we are lost!"

Jayda glanced back to see her berserking ranger near to tears and a tiny, timid elf girl desperately reaching out to him.

"Oh, don't cry," she said. "You and Boo have fought bravely! Who could count the foes you've vanquished! Dynaheir would be proud of you…"

Minsc regarded her seriously and then put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She tried to smile, clearly hoping she managed to comfort him in some way.

"You have been good friends, you and Jayda… Minsc would ask something of you." He looked at the ground bashfully and Jayda tried not to make her spying so obvious. "Will you… will you be my witch, Aerie? Boo and I are nothing without a witch, you see…"

Aerie smiled and tried to put her hand on Minsc's shoulder but he was far too tall for her to reach. Minsc squatted down for her so that she could, and the pair looked something hysterical and awkward like that.

"If you will be my guardian, Minsc, I shall be your witch," she said sincerely. "Your dajemma has not been for nothing and Dynaheir's death shall not go unavenged."

Jayda smiled at just how much Aerie had managed to grow since they picked her up in that circus tent, her uncle begging them to show her better things. Better things, Jayda thought bitterly, if they could be called such, but the once-winged elf had become stronger and braver and tougher; that was not so terrible a thing, was it?

Minsc's roar of joy startled the woods and a flock of birds shout out of the canopy of trees.

"My sword, my soul, my hamster… all of these I pledge to Aerie, my witch!" he declared. "Hear that, evil? Minsc has a new witch! Woe is you!"

Aerie laughed as the group continued their pace and Edwin sidled up next to Jayda.

"Fools," he muttered. "Why they must insist on making this nauseating traipse through the woods even worse, I will never comprehend."

"What I can't comprehend," Jayda began, "is why you're still here."

"Hmm?" Edwin moaned without looking at her.

"Why are you still with us? I know it is not because you are overly fond of anyone here."

"I have my reasons, and they are my own," he snapped, then muttered to himself, "why does she constantly ask me such inane questions?"

Jayda leaned over and bumped his shoulder as they walked. "Admit it. You got a soft spot for me."

"W-what?" he gasped, offended.

"We spent so much time together, I grew on you. A little bit," she motioned with her fingers.

"You did no such thing!" he insisted, rubbing his shoulder where she'd touched it as though to remove the germs.

"And you're interested to see how this plays out, right?"

"Per… perhaps," he mumbled, eyeing her suspiciously. She made the sign for a little bit with her fingers again and he rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, Edwin," she laughed. "You're not completely terrible, either."

Edwin grumbled to himself for nearly an hour, gravely insulted by her insinuation.

/

The courtroom was cold and the people gathered were all turned to stone, frozen in motion and conversation. Jayda moved slowly through the room, threading between the statues, as she was pulled toward something deeper in this strange place.

Finally, she saw it: the podium where he stood… her tormenter, Jon Irenicus.

"Life… is strength," he told her. "This is not to be contested; it seems logical enough. You live; you affect your world. But is it what _you_ need? You are… different… inside."

Jayda looked at the stone figures that surrounded them, recognizing the faces of her companions, those still alive and those now dead; she saw people she had met, had touched, had fought, had befriended. Her gaze fell on a woman she remembered meeting on a farm outside Baldur's Gate when she had been leaving the city after Sarevok's fall. The woman had let her and her friends rest there for the night and provided them with rations for the road.

"This woman lives and has strength, of a sort," Irenicus said, waving his hand. The woman's stone face became flush with color and, for a moment, she moved and breathed, alive. "She lost her parents to plague, her husband to war, but she persevered. Her farm has prospered, her name is respected, and her children are fed and safe. She lived as she thought she should."

Irenicus suddenly attacked, spearing the woman with a magic missile. She gasped and fell, destroyed.

"And now, she is dead," he said coldly. Jayda glared at him as he casually walked back and forth. "Her land will be divided, her children will move on, and she will be forgotten. She lived a 'good' life, but she had no power. She was a slave to death." He stopped suddenly and looked intently at her. "I wonder if you are destined to be forgotten. Will your life fade in the shadow of greater beings?"

"Perhaps," Jayda replied quietly.

"You are born of murder, the very essence of that which takes life. You have power, if you wish it."

She shook her head. "I have no interest in the horrors you offer, Irenicus." She motioned to the courtroom. "And none of this is to be believed."

"Really?" he snapped condescendingly. "But the consequences are so very real." He waved his hand again and the stone image of Imoen became flesh. "Your actions affect so many others than yourself. You will come to realize how little choice you have."

"Irenicus," Jayda warned, hands balling into fists. She tried not to look at Imoen, tried to remember it was just a dream, but she found she could not look away or stop her fear from manifesting. Anger swelled painfully in her chest.

"You will do what you must, become what you must," he insisted, "or others will pay for your cowardice." He took one step toward her and she felt the cold rage of his black eyes burning through her. "You _will_ accept the gifts offered to you!"

With a burst of power, Imoen convulsed and fire surged from her feet to consume her. Jayda heard herself scream.

And then she bolted up, panting as the crickets in the wood chirped and sang. She looked around her, wild-eyed, and then wiped the sweat from her brow once she realized where she was. Her friends were sleeping around the dying campfire, with the exception of Edwin who was slumped against a nearby tree, having nodded off on his watch. With a shake of her head, she got up to stoke the fire, too afraid to go back to sleep.

Jaheira's groans caught her attention as she set new logs on the glowing embers and stoked them into lighting.

"Nn… nnn… nno… no! No!" Jaheira cried, and then she suddenly sat up. Jayda noticed the confusion in her expression as she looked around.

"Nightmares?" Jayda asked. "Relax, Jaheira… There is nothing wrong. Except, perhaps, our watch has fallen asleep."

Jaheira glanced back at Edwin and grumbled, but she did not go back to sleep. Instead, she sat up and stared at the fire pit, watching the small flames lick at the fresh wood.

"No," she finally said, "there is something very wrong." She met Jayda's gaze. "I… I have been having nightmares for quite some time now… and when I wake, it is still there." Her face contorted painfully. "Khalid," she whispered and pursed her lips. "I thought I was stronger than this."

"There is no weakness in honest sorrow, Jaheira," Jayda replied quietly. The druid looked up and nodded silently.

"Did Gorion teach you that?" she finally asked. Jayda nodded.

"And many others…"

"It seems so long ago that I last met Gorion. Do you recall his tales? They could last for days, a snippet at a time here and there. He built a history, so you felt like you were there."

"Yes," Jayda replied with a smile, "and when it was all over, you felt like it was yours."

"Yes," Jaheira agreed. "His story became yours… and you took it with you." She tilted her head to the side, regarding her, and Jayda thought her friend looked truly beautiful in the soft light. "You are not of his blood, but there is so much of him in you."

"And much of Khalid in you," Jayda replied. "I am sorry, Jaheira…"

"Don't—"

"Please. Let me. Let me say this." She waited until the druid nodded. "Khalid was a great man… and a great friend, and as much as I mourn your loss, I mourn his death more. I won't burden you with my fond memories of him, or trouble you by blaming myself. But I am sorry… I am truly sorry… And if I could do nothing to save him, I would continue to do great deeds in his name, and honor his sacrifice… so that wherever he is, he smiles proudly. At me… and at you."

"Jayda?"

She took a deep breath. "You both made a vow to protect me and watch over me. I was young, angry—perhaps I still am—and I know it wasn't easy bearing me as your obligation. But you both served honestly and faithfully, and I considered you friends. I trust you, I seek your council, I am glad for every day that you are with me. And just as I never want to lose your trust and approval… I still strive for Khalid's as well."

Jaheira lowered her head to hide her tears, and the two women sat together in quiet mourning, while the forest sang a soft requiem for the departed Khalid.

/

The city of Athkatla buzzed with the energy of a profitable day as the merchants shut down their shops and the shoppers returned to their homes. Jayda and her friends returned to the City of Coin at the close of the day, ready to return to the Copper Coronet and relax. And with the correct amount of gold, Jayda was ready to see Gaelan Bayle and proceed to the next step in finding Imoen.

As they strolled the main street through the Bridge district, a woman approached.

"Hello, friends," she began with a sultry voice. "Might I have a word away from the ears of others? I would impart a fine bit of business your way."

"We're always interested in business," Edwin began, a small grin on his lips. Jayda rolled her eyes. "If there's profit in your words, speak them."

"Oh, there is profit, to be sure," she replied, flashing a flirtatious smile at him, and then she focused on Jayda. "There are also answers, but they shall come from my mistress. She would have words with you." The woman led them off the road and away from the crowd. "She has watched you for a time, though she is not the only one. Those that you are asked to trust spy as openly or more so, and she offers a solution to your problems of privacy… among others. She is worthy of your trust. If you feel worthy of hers, come to the Graveyard District tonight and she will speak her offer. Make your visit after the sky is darkened; she will not be there before then."

Jayda frowned. Everything about this woman screamed deceit and darkness. And yet her words held knowledge—knowledge Jayda was not sure how she had come by. Clearly, she spoke of Jayda's deal with Gaelan Bayle, and of another woman—this mistress—that would make an offer as well.

"And who shall we say sent us?" Edwin asked.

"I am Valen," she told him and her gaze went back to Jayda's, "but she will not need as such when you arrive. She will know it is you. Farewell," she purred. "We shall meet again." And then she wandered off.

Jayda stood there, annoyed and anxious. Something about this meeting did not bode well with her.

"Are you going to go?" Jaheira asked her.

"Of course we will," Edwin answered.

"I was not talking to you, wizard!"

Jayda moved out of the alley and into the light, striding with purpose toward the Slums. She needed to talk to Gaelan and see what this was all about. She did not get far—only halfway through the district—when a small boy she recognized darted out from between two buildings and stopped her.

"I did nay think I'd be talkin' to you louts again," Brus said, "but I do what my uncle Gaelan says whenever I can."

"Is that so?" Jayda asked, folding her arms across her chest and lifting her brow in curiosity.

"Well, anyways, Uncle Gaelan wants you to come see him before you go making any rash decisions, he said. He says he wants to sweeten the deal."

"Oh did he?" Jaheira asked as she and the others caught up to them. "And how would he know Jayda has a decision to make?"

"Don't look at me," the boy said. "I just do what I'm told. He said to tell you the offer is sweeter, so here I am."

"Then you've done your part, now go," Edwin muttered disgustedly, and he shooed the boy off.

"Two propositions in one day?" Anomen asked. "This reeks of something foul."

"Something foul, indeed…" Jayda muttered, reconsidering seeing Gaelan. "Perhaps I will see what Valen's mistress has to say, after all…"

/

"You have arrived," said a seductive voice from the shadows. "I had worried I might have to discipline Valen for failing to deliver her message." A pale-skinned, black-haired woman stepped from the shadows; she was beautiful and fiendish. "You may be concerned about why we must meet here. There are a number of reasons, only a few of which you need worry about. First, I shall introduce myself. I am Bodhi, and I greet you warmly," she said with a close-lipped smile.

"What is it you wish of me?"

She smiled again and, without taking her eyes off of Jayda, motioned to the shadows of the entrance gate to the graveyard.

"You can tell your friends they are welcome to join us. My offer is for you, and they are an extension of your arm, so I am told."

Jayda glanced back at where her friends were hidden but did not signal them to come forward.

"It's better this way. Now what would ask of me?"

"I have asked you here because we are unlikely to be overheard, and so you can see the benefits of working with me. You are employed, of course, and do errands occasionally. No doubt you have questioned the intent of your employer on occasion? If you haven't then you should."

Jayda frowned, but Bodhi only smiled again.

"You work for the Shadow Thieves on the pretense they will help locate your missing companion, Imoen. Yes, they are Shadow Thieves, and yes, they are as nefarious as you have probably heard."

Jayda was not at all surprised, and had, deep down, guessed the identity of her employers long before hearing it from Bodhi's lips. Still, she was infuriated, and Bodhi probably understood that fury as Jayda's ignorance being enlightened and feeling used; it was not, however, what she thought.

Jayda had finally come to understand what this was all about.

"I would offer an alternative," Bodhi continued. "I would help you find your friend for, oh, fifteen thousand gold? It is a sizeable amount less than the Shadow Thieves have asked and, coincidentally, it is what you have now."

"Fifteen thousand…" Jayda echoed.

"It is a lot, but I will compensate you well for it. Rest assured, I will help you find Imoen and I will help you find Irenicus."

"And in return, what do you get out of this?"

"Why, the destruction of the largest criminal organization south of Waterdeep," she replied. "There is a monopoly in this town and I intend to break it. I make no illusions about what will be required of you. I will wish you to kill, and I will wish you to terrorize—no more than they have asked of you. You trusted the Shadow Thieves on a whim, and now I ask you to trust me, for I can give you so much more. Choose your allegiance. The masters you serve or the Mistress that will let you destroy them."

"I will think about it," Jayda said and Bodhi clucked her tongue.

"Now is the time for deciding," she cooed.

"If I must say now, then I must decline. I do not trust either of you, but they are the devil I know."

Bodhi tilted her head up at the chin, regarding her silently with black eyes. Finally, the woman nodded.

"Think on it, then," she said coldly, "but do not think too long. Come here tomorrow when the sun has set if you have made the right decision, and I will accept you. After that, if we meet again, it will likely be in battle."

Jayda tipped her head in acknowledgement and the dark one called Bodhi retreated back her shadows and disappeared. After a moment, the rest of Jayda's group joined her.

"Are you really going to think about it?" Jaheira asked.

"I already have." Jayda glanced back at her friends. "They may well be thieves, but she is evil. Come, let's leave this place. There is someone I must see."

/

Gaelan jumped to his feet as the door burst open and slammed against the wall. Arledrian rushed to meet the intruder but Jayda's fist was cocked, ready for him, and she hit him so hard that he fell flat on his back. Gaelan's stomach sank and he inwardly sighed.

"Sweeten the deal, huh? No, don't tell me. Let me guess! Fifteen thousand, right?" Jayda shouted. Gaelan nodded. "This was never for Imoen, was it?" she screamed, tossing a heavy bag on his desk. "It was to fund your guild war, Shadow Thief! You used me to fight for you, to pay for your war by promising me the one thing you knew I desperately needed!"

Gaelan put his hands in his pockets and slowly nodded as Arledrian got to his feet. Gaelan motioned him away and so he left the house. Jayda's glare was so fierce, her eyes began to glow.

"Where is she?" she bellowed.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly. She ripped a dagger from her belt and slammed it into his desk.

"Tell me!"

"I don't know," he repeated.

"Did the Thieves ever intend to help me or was everything a lie?"

"We _intend_ to help ye," Gaelan assured her. "The gold will go to the guild war, aye, but not all of it. Some goes to resources used to find ye friend, and some to book ye and ye friends passage on a ship."

"To where?"

"I don't know."

She slammed the dagger down again. "Why don't you know anything?" she screamed.

"Because you and I—we're too close!" he shouted back and then paused, staring intently at her. "And if I did know, I…" He sighed, punched his desk, and then turned, planting his hands on the windowsill. "Ye have to trust me."

"I will," she said after a moment, her voice raspy from shouting. "I have no other choice but one, and I like her even less. But if you betray me, there will be no Night-Fiends _or_ Shadow Thieves in Athkatla to vie for dominance. Is that clear?"

"Aye," he said and turned to face her. "We _will_ get ye to ye friend, Jayda. I swear it."

"Oh, aye," she mumbled bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. "And at what cost? My gold, my swords? Tell me you wouldn't ask of me what Bodhi did: that you will use me to destroy the other."

"We use each other!" he retorted angrily, though his anger wasn't aimed at her. "Us for survival, and you for heroics!"

He wouldn't be berated for being a messenger, regardless of how much he knew prior to their arrangement. Still, he was uncomfortable with the idea of buying her to destroy the Shadow Thieves' enemies by playing on her weaknesses. Gaelan never considered himself a moral man, but this felt wrong. Perhaps he knew her too well and it was toying with his affections.

"You're right," she murmured and turned to go.

"Don't leave like this," he said, stopping her.

"Like what?" she asked, whirling back to face him. "Angry? But I am! Harassed? I am! Deceived? Used? I am!" She turned again.

"I told ye the truth before! Since we met, I haven't lied to ye!"

"Half the truth doesn't count!" she exclaimed as she went for the door.

"Jayda—"

"Don't!"

"It's just ye look like ye might kill someone," he told her, and she froze. "There be plenty of fools on the street that deserve it, but there be many who don't, and I don't figure ye want it on ye conscience either way."

Jayda suddenly ripped her swords from her belt loops and dropped them on the ground. Next, she withdrew every dagger she had hidden on her person and released them with shaky hands. Gaelan frowned, wondering what had gotten into her, and so he risked coming around the desk and getting closer.

"Ye all right—"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't come. Don't look at me."

Gaelan wasn't sure why she was acting that way—like she was suddenly afraid—but he had never been very good at listening or following orders. So he came closer, reached out, and touched her arm; she twitched as his fingers curled around her bicep and guided her to face him. Beneath her closed lids, he saw a dim light gently subsiding. He lifted her head by her chin, frowning.

He had heard of the Bhaalspawns' powers, but he had never seen anything in her that seemed anything more than mortal. Finally, she opened her eyes, and the glow in her gray gaze diminished and she returned to normal.

"Ye all right?" he asked again, and she nodded, so he changed his tone from concerned to amused. "Cause ye know, ever since ye put Lehtinan outta business, it's been real borin', and I can't have ye walkin' out on me now. Not when ye been gone near a month's time."

Her head dropped tiredly. "I don't have the energy to entertain you, Gaelan, or the heart…"

"Well, ye needn't worry about that," he muttered as he bent to kiss her. "I got a month's worth of both."

Gaelan pulled her into him and kissed her as deeply and thoroughly as she would allow at the moment. He didn't know how to soften her heart or open her up. In the past, he let anger boil or cool, whichever it would, made amends through service, and let bygones rest through revenge. Yet right then, he felt he needed her forgiveness, or at least her acceptance. He didn't know how to ask for that and he did not have the patience to wait for it. So he did the only thing he knew to do to get to a woman's heart: sleep with her. Intimacy, regardless of one's feelings, was vulnerability. And he needed that vulnerability.

Gaelan reached behind her and shut the door. Then, still kissing her, he carried her upstairs to the dark bedroom and removed her armor. By then, she had begun to kiss him back, slowly opening herself up to him. They dropped onto the bed and continued the exchange, growing more intense by the second. Gaelan felt hot and ready, wondering how he hadn't noticed before how much his body had missed this.

Then Jayda slowly stopped kissing him back, prompting him to encourage her with deeper kisses and gentle nips to her lips. But she did not respond, and completely stopped moving entirely. He leaned back and opened his eyes.

She'd fallen asleep.

He stared for long moment, trying to figure out exactly what had happened, and then he laughed and dropped onto the bed next to her.

"Tired, ay?" he mumbled, amused, and then kicked his boots off. He rolled into her and put his arms around her. "G'night…"


	13. The Sword and the Sparrow

**Act 3**

**The Sword and the Sparrow**

"Four locks are cast and made, four wards will hold the blade…" Edwin mumbled to himself as he paced in front of the four pipes. "In what order shall thou place the keys? Four deaths await thee. Hmmm…"

Jayda and her friends were in the sewers, where they had been for hours, side-tracked by riddles and rhymes. Edwin paced back and forth in front of the glowing pool they had found, repeating the rhyme they had heard and the riddles scratched into the pipes. Treasure was sometimes worth waiting for, though the stench was getting to all of them.

Jaheira sat on the far end by the pool, looking irritable as ever. Aerie sat on Minsc's knee to prevent her robes from being dirtied, and Minsc had claimed an old barrel to perch on. Jayda sat on the ground, back to the wall, and Anomen sat next to her.

"They wailed and sighed… then they died," Edwin muttered, momentarily pausing his shuffle to regard the four items they had collected in the vicinity.

Jayda closed her eyes and thought back to the previous night. Her enflamed anger had been quickly doused by Gaelan's kisses, and she wished she hadn't been so tired so she could have enjoyed his company. Waking to find herself in his arms was comforting, and the struggle to wake him or let him sleep was a challenging one. On one hand, she found his sleeping face adorable and felt he had earned the rest; she had read the stress in his expression and noticed his troubled brow. On the other hand, she wanted to be selfish and wake him to indulge in the entertainment he'd promised the previous night.

She nearly smiled wide, but resisted enough that it became a small smirk. He had woken on his own when she tried to quietly leave, and he had been extremely frustrated at not even receiving a goodbye; Gaelan had proceeded to punish her most thoroughly, and it was a punishment they both endured with equal pleasure. She pressed her lips together to keep the smile from escaping.

Why the affair had started, she didn't know. She had been attracted to him, sure enough, and was convinced it was merely surface attraction. But after Mae'Var's kisses, Gaelan's stood out in her memory all the more, and she found she desired his kisses again. When he made a move on her—a move, she realized, she wasn't entirely not asking for—she couldn't resist giving in. She wanted it. She wanted to be held, to be loved, to be kissed by someone she desired.

At first it was a fling, but now her mind dwelled on him and her heart missed him. She sighed and blew a few strands of hair from her face.

"My lady, I was wondering," Anomen began quietly, interrupting her thoughts, "if you might tell me more stories about you and Gorion."

Jayda quietly studied him a moment. "I would," she said, "but I know nothing of you and your family. Why don't you ever speak of your own father?"

He sighed. "My relationship with my father was nothing like yours with Gorion," he admitted bitterly. "If _Lord Cor_ was not deep into his cups, he was demanding that I uphold the family honor… or telling me what a worthless son I had become."

"Surely he couldn't have thought so once you pledged yourself to the Order?" Jayda mentally kicked herself for bringing up such a horrible topic, chewing on the inside of her lip in nervousness.

"He was derisive of my choice to join the Order," Anomen snorted, trying to laugh off the bad memory, but the pain was evident on his face. "He wanted me to take over his mercantile business—something I truly had no stomach for. I would have given much for my father to be my mentor… but, it was not to be. Eventually, I realized this. So I endured his abuse until I was able to squire for the Order, and fled as quickly as I could." His hands fidgeted, fingers twisting together anxiously. "Ah… speaking of my father leaves me feeling like an ill wind has blown across my soul. I speak of memories that are best put aside, Jayda, lest they fester at my heart. Please, I would have you tell me of your Gorion, so that I can share in your happy memories."

Jayda gently nudged his arm with her shoulder. "Leaving them bottled up like that will cause the festering, Anomen," she replied. "All wounds must be treated before they can be healed. Perhaps… talking about it will ease some of that pain."

He seemed hesitant but eventually nodded.

"Perhaps you're right… though I do not wish to burden you further with my troubled childhood, nor do I wish to sour the mood anymore than I have already."

"Do your worst, squire," she challenged with a small smile. He sighed again and picked up some old, discarded string to tug and rip at.

"I remember when I first achieved the rank of squire. It had been a difficult task for my father had refused to be my patron, leaving me no better off than a commoner. Most knights would not take me in since I had no coin to pay for my equipment. Being a believer in Helm, my mother petitioned the Knight-Commander on my behalf, and I became a novitiate to Helm. I trained as a cleric and learned my sword arts from the guardians of the temple, struggling every day to prove myself to the Order. Then one day, a knight by the name of Sir Blethyn took pity on me and had me squired.

"I was so proud during the ceremony," he said with a faint smile, "and happy. But… it was not to last." His brow creased and he looked down at his fidgeting hands. "My father stumbled into the Order's headquarters, filthy drunk and full of rage. He began shouting at the knights—at Sir Ryan Trawl, no less—that I had been stolen from him." He tossed a broken piece of the string at the ground and his voice became very quiet. "That I was a worthless and weak son who should not be in the Order…"

Jayda closed her eyes, regretting pressuring him to open up to her and bringing this pain back into his life. She debated apologizing—for forcing him to talk about it, for his father's behavior, for his ruined ceremony—but he suddenly continued his tale.

"Sir Ryan Trawl told him that I had proven myself… but the old bastard would hear none of it." He tossed the rest of the string angrily. "They were forced to drag him out of the temple, kicking and screaming. Leave it to my father to slain the one moment of pure pleasure I was able to steal during my time in the Order—the one thing I achieved despite all of his opposition!"

"I'm sorry," she said seriously. He quickly shook his head.

"What a pathetic knight I must seem, blubbering like a boy to you over such a thing as my father's disapproval. You must think me a fool, my lady."

"I do not think you a fool, Anomen. And neither should you. You've overcome many obstacles, and should be proud of your accomplishments. A father's love and respect is something every child longs for. A father's scorn… can damage even the mightiest of men. If Gorion had not been who he was, I would not be the woman I am." She smiled. "You've become a far better person than I could have hoped to have been were our positions reversed."

"Thank you, my lady," he replied softly, and the rasp of emotion was heard in his words. He cleared his throat. "You remind me of my little sister, Moira—young and determined, but with a gentle and benevolent heart. She can be stubborn… but always in the name of good."

Jayda blushed and shook her head.

"I think you exaggerate our comparison. She sounds like a wonderful woman."

"She is," he agreed happily. "And so are you… Ah, I miss her. I regret abandoning her to her fate alongside my father, but there was little I could do. She refuses to leave his side, even at his drunken worst… staying to take care of him. Through her letters, she seems to be bearing up well, though I think she is merely trying to ease my guilt." He tried to laugh, but his somber mood had returned. "I wish I could take her away and send her somewhere where she could be happy."

"There are many things we would do for those we love… but we have to remember, the ones we love live their own lives, too. And we cannot make them do otherwise."

"You speak from personal experience again," he said. "You mentioned you have something of a sister, as well, my lady. Imoen. When first we met, you bitterly recalled her trouble started when she followed you."

"Aye," Jayda agreed, "and if she hadn't, she'd be back in Candlekeep, safe and happy. And if she hadn't… she wouldn't be the Imoen I know… She wouldn't be that carefree, loyal friend I love so dearly. I miss her… I hate to think what horrible things Irenicus will do to her—how frightened and alone she must feel… I will make him pay for this." Her hands clenched into fists. "Every injustice she has suffered, I will deal it back."

"Gah, I see injustices everywhere, my lady," he growled frustrated, "and… and I wish to do nothing but strike out against them! But even when I do… I keep on striking out… the hate and anger only grows. How do you deal with it? How do you keep it out of your heart?"

The truth was that Jayda did not keep it out of her heart. The anger and hate burrowed deep inside of her, like a black disease, and slowly festered and spread. These days, she felt ill and near-to-dying with all of that hate inside of her. But she would not tell him that. He was innocent, pure, and had a bright future she wanted to see realized.

"Remember that every wrong you can right will change the fortune of someone out there. Some child, some poor friend, some helpless stranger will smile at a new dawn and the chance of a better life. Remember that every wrong you right has given someone out there hope because you used your power to help others."

"Aye," he said with a bright smile. "That is the right of it."

Jayda tired to smile back, wishing she could believe her own speech. Luckily, Edwin's declaration spared her too much concentration on her guilt, and the group all got to their feet and gathered around. Jayda knelt at the water's edge.

From the churning, glowing pool, a sword manifested, and its blade glistened with razor-sharp edges. From the bubbling waters, Jayda lifted the blade and held it carefully in her hands. Then, a most curious and wonderful thing happened. The sword spoke.

"You know… a long time ago… I was like a, a moonblade!" it declared.

Jayda looked back at her friends and grinned.

"It's a sentient sword…" she breathed in awe, then turned to regard the blade again. She gently ran her fingers over the hilt. "What do you call yourself, blade?"

"Lilarcor," it replied, "I think was my name. So… are we gonna… kill something now?"

Jayda grinned and got to her feet, passing the weapon off to Minsc. He gently took the two-handed sword and marveled at how it fit in his sturdy hands.

"Are you sure?" he asked breathily.

"Minsc," she said seriously, "this sword was made for you. And with its bloodlust and your eager vengeance, I am sure you will slay many foes."

"Thank you, Jayda," Minsc said with a heartfelt sniffle. He gave her a burly hug and sheathed the weapon in place of his old.

"Now, let's get out of here," she said, and the group made their way back out into the twisting tunnels of the sewers. As they passed by one particular wall, though, she stopped and regarded it. "This is no ordinary wall…" she mumbled.

Jayda poured over the grimy, stone wall, searching every crack until she finally found the outline of a door. Then, she hit the mechanism, and the secret door slide away with a deep grind. The group exchanged looks and then they ventured into the unknown, Jayda leading the way in search of traps. They came to a spiral, stone staircase and slowly ascended, finding themselves in a well-furnished, hidden dwelling. A fire burned in a large hearth and comfortable furniture was positioned around it. In the back, an archway revealed a library that Edwin quickly investigated.

"Histories, mostly," he mumbled, long fingers lightly brushing the spines of the volumes as he studied each shelf. "Some magical anecdotes, as well… Hmm…" and then he began mumbling to himself while the others looked around.

There were two other doors to investigate, but Jayda wondered how smart such a decision would be. Before she could make one, however, Aerie's giggles caught her attention.

"Why do you talk to yourself, Edwin?" she asked quietly and Jayda almost chuckled. She glanced around, but none of the others had heard.

"What?" Edwin snapped, coming out of his reverie. He seemed surprised to notice Aerie was standing right next to him. "Oh, why, hello Aerie. I, ah… don't do anything of the sort." And then he mumbled again, "no, now is not the time to make arguments." He cleared his throat. "Why are you asking?"

"I—I was just wondering," she began, fiddling with one of the books, "when I get to meet him."

Jayda covered her mouth to stifle her snort of laughter. Edwin, embarrassed, turned red.

"There's no one to meet!" he said to himself, and then out loud, declared, "There's no one to meet! Get away from me! I have work to do!"

Aerie turned back to the main room. Jayda caught her eyes and gave her a thumbs up, provoking a gentle smile and meek thumbs up from Aerie.

Carefully opening the west door, Jayda led the group through a small storage room and into a fine bedroom with lavish bed linens and drapes. The next door opened into a rounding hallway and they snuck through the empty corridors, wary of the silence, and passed a strange chapel.

"Perhaps no one is home," Edwin mumbled and Jaheira harshly put her finger to her lips to silence him.

As they came to the last room, Jayda saw a tiefling man scrubbing the floor around an unfinished stairwell. Barrels and crates were stacked along the walls and in the corners; rubble and discarded tools were piled away from the supplies.

"Hello?" Jayda called carefully, one hand on her sword hilt. She did not want to appear threatening by drawing it, but she would be damned if she was caught unawares.

The tiefling looked blankly at her and then went back to his scrubbing.

"What… what's wrong with him?" Minsc asked.

"He's been spelled," Edwin said, "or somehow otherwise magically controlled."

Jayda inched closer to the tiefling. He was young, handsome, and had unique tattoos on his fair face. There was something about him that seemed strong and powerful and beautiful, but she could not figure out what. Then, Aerie's Uncle Quayle popped into her mind, and she remembered his story of the poor Sigil Troupe traveling with the Circus in their visit to Athkatla. He told how the troupe had lost their star actor, a tiefling called Haer'dalis, and he pitied the problems the Sigil's show was having with their terrible understudy.

"Are you all right?" she asked with a sinking feeling she had found the long, lost actor, but he did not respond. "Where is this place?"

"I serve only Mekrath," he finally told her, voice hollow.

Jayda glanced back at her friends and they went back the way they came. Jaheira and Edwin were the first to start down the steps, but Jayda went directly to the second door.

"What are you doing?" Jaheira asked.

"Remember what your Uncle Quayle said about the Sigil Troupe?" Jayda asked Aerie as she bent to examine the lock for traps.

"Yes, that they'd lost their lead actor and were struggling getting the show back on its feet," she replied and sighed. "Haer'dalis, I think was his name. I didn't see it before he went missing. I heard it was a wonderful piece."

"Well," Jayda began, disarming a door trap, "I think we just found him."

Jaheira came back up the stairs. "You mean to free him."

"I mean to," Jayda confirmed and slipped through the newly revealed corridor.

The group came to a new and daunting room. An old cot was pushed into a corner while strange wardrobes lined one wall. In the center, a table had a skeleton lying on top of it.

"What in Sylvanis' name…" Jaheira mumbled. "Science… or torture?"

"It doesn't look like torture," Edwin said.

"You would know," the druid mumbled, earning a glare from the wizard.

As they came around the next bend, an archway opened up to a laboratory and a robed-man's back was to them. He was hunched over a table with burners and vials, all hooked together with bubbling and steaming liquids of various colors. He carefully measured one potion and poured it into another. Then, he suddenly stood up straight and spun around.

"What is this?" he sneered. "Intruders within Mekrath's domain? What brings you here, foolish woman? Speak quickly, for I do not suffer errant fools gladly!"

Jayda stepped forward bravely, noticing the magical glyph on Mekrath's robe. He was a wizard, no doubt, and would be dangerous if she did not strike quickly. Though she hoped to disarm the situation without violence, she motioned with one hand behind her back, signaling to Edwin to ready a spell.

"I am here for Haer'dalis, nothing more. Release him to me," she said calmly. The wizard growled and shook his scrawny head, growing more and more flustered by the second.

"Give you the little thief? Why would I do such a thing when he has made me such a perfect slave? I never thought I'd get that back room cleared after the explosion, and now… who knows? I may even finish the second level one day!"

"Thief?" Jayda asked. "You have it wrong. He is an actor, nothing more."

"Perhaps he is," Mekrath snarled, "but he stole into my sanctum as a thief and now he is my prisoner. I'll not be divested of my gem by thieves and fools! Now go, enough of these games! I have work to do."

"What are you talking about? What game?" she asked as he turned back to his table. Mekrath groaned, agitated, and whirled back to face her.

"Ragh!" he growled. "I tire of this barrage of thievery! You shall not get your hands upon my gem, little woman! Now you shall suffer the other one's fate for your insolence and disruptions!"

Jayda dove to the side as Mekrath lifted his arms, but Edwin was faster. A bolt of light shot through the archway and struck Mekrath in the chest, momentarily paralyzing him. Then, with a quick roll, Jayda came up beside the wizard, simultaneously pulling a dagger from her boot, and she drew her blade across his throat.

"That could have gone worse," Jaheira mumbled casually as the group made their way into the laboratory.

"Yes, especially if one of you fools had struck any of these bottles. These potions are highly reactive and any small disturbance could, in no small force, explode the very walls around us."

"See if there's anything useful here," Jayda told them, "and then meet me back at the stairs. Quickly. I'm going to see if Mekrath's death freed the tiefling. I don't want to be around in case we disturbed some potion making that will cause explosions for being left unattended."

They nodded and she made her way back to the main room toward the supplies area when she heard groaning and spied the black-haired actor.

"Ahhh… my head spins with sullen fire and strange, lurid notions instead of memories," he groaned, and Jayda was shocked he was able to speak so poetically and look so groggy. "What is this? My captor lies dead… I can feel it." He met Jayda's gaze and a faint smile came to his lips. "And the sparrow spies his glorious savior. 'In a blaze of trumpets, with wicked blades held high, thus came ye fates of chaos to let this sparrow fly!' Tell me, my beautiful raven, who you are that you have ventured into such a place."

"Jayda," she told him. "I ventured quite accidentally, I assure you, but I had heard of the Sigil Troupe's lost actor. You are he, are you not?"

"I am he, my raven, and I am grateful for your timely accidental wandering, though to wander this wayward is a curiosity in and of itself. I won't beg you for details as I surely wish, for you have freed me."

He crossed over to her and gently brushed the loose hair from her face. It was then the others shuffled into the room, and he smiled. Anomen, however, did not seem pleased at the proximity of the two of them.

"And the supporting roles make their entrance on cue, and we fly from this place ever bravely toward the light," Haer'dalis said.

"Supporting?" Edwin sneered, insulted. "You there, tiefling, would be wise to hold your tongue in the presence of a great one such as I. We have endured no small amount of trouble rescuing you, so you would do well to grovel passionately and step lively, lest our efforts lie in vain and you a corpse."

"Ignore him," Jayda mouthed, annoyed.

"All things rot and all things die, my dark birds," Haer'dalis said, not the least bit offended. "Entropy, chaos, decay… these are the gifts we are left with when we finally slip between the fingers of this world as surely as the sands of time." He nodded to Edwin and then gently caressed Jayda's cheek. "If it comes for this poet, rest easy, for I have brought it upon myself."

Jayda glanced back at her friends—at Anomen's scowl, Jaheira's raised brows, Minsc's wide grin, Aerie's quizzical stare, and Edwin's annoyed expression. She shrugged helplessly, chalking up the touchy-feely behavior and poetic rambling to the fact that Haer'dalis was an actor… and actors, by nature, were strange and expressive beings.

* * *

**A/N:** Originally, I wasn't going to include either Lilarcor or Haer'dalis, but my original chapter plan has morphed so much and continues to do so that things like this happen regardless. I am happy, though, because I REALLY love Lilarcor; it is my most favorite weapon of any game I've ever played. Not to mention... Haer'dalis is a very fun character, too. I apologize if the pacing of this chapter seemed rush. Originally this and the follow chapter were one chapter, but I realized it was too long and had to break them apart.


	14. Ardor and Altercations

**WARNING: This chapter contains sexual content! If that sort of thing bothers you, skip ahead as there is additional conversation and another scene. :)**

**Ardor and Altercations**

The uproar within the Copper Coronet was, this time, due to Jayda's company and the Sigil Troupe's celebration. The return of Haer'dalis was met with hugs, kisses, praises, and honor… to each and every member that traveled with the bard. Edwin was very displeased and Aerie was terrified. Minsc didn't seem to mind all that much, and Jaheira threatened every person who came close to touching her, though they still managed to smother her with affection. Anomen was too surprised to react.

So the party was carried to the Coronet, where the celebrants were already flushed with alcohol. Music and dancing livened the place as the Sigil bards filled it with song and the patrons danced without care. Laughter seemed the common theme, however, and there was much of that heard at every table.

"Dance with me, raven!" Haer'dalis insisted for the third time, tugging on Jayda's arm, but her rejection came again with playful laughter.

"Leave her alone!" Anomen exclaimed. "You heard the lady. She doesn't want to dance!"

"Oh, she will want to dance with me," Haer'dalis said and winked at him, causing Anomen to fluster.

"Really, I can't dance—"

"You cannot turn me away, my raven. 'As the mighty mountain, I shall not be swayed. Not in the face of howling adversity, nor cold and careless steel, nor base effrontery. Nay, persist, and be a timeless, sturdy rock for all to lean.' My raven…" He dropped to his knee and kissed the back of her hand.

"You had better do it," Raelis Shai, one of the Sigil, said as she popped over to the table to wet her throat after singing a lively ballad, "else he turn on the actor's charm and sweep you off your feet."

"It has been my experience that the lady prefers her feet on the ground," Anomen protested.

Jayda noticed a look exchanged between Haer'dalis and Raelis Shai before the copper-haired beauty seductively spun into Anomen's arms and swept him into a dance. Before she could say anything else, Haer'dalis jerked her up and pulled her onto the floor, chuckling at her surprised squeak.

She laughed as they jumped and spun around the crowd, and she found her tiefling partner was a fantastic lead. Somehow, she managed to follow his steps and not look a fool—or if she did, he covered magnificently for her failings.

After they danced several songs, Haer'dalis released her and called out to Aerie, his mourning dove, and beckoned her to the floor. She put up far less resistance than Jayda had, and the blond elf was soon being twirled into a merry dance. She noticed how Haer'dalis had shifted from a strong lead to a gentle one and admired that kind of talent—to understand people and act appropriately according to that understanding.

Jayda stretched and pushed through the crowd, having wound up on the opposite side of the tavern and wanting back at her drink on her table. Someone bumped into her, knocking her into another person, and that man turned a grumpy gaze on her.

"Oy!" he exclaimed, wiping ale off of his stubbly face. When he saw her, he laughed, pointed, and hollered to his men. "Look! Look at th' dolly girl, all sacked up like an 'adventurer'. Are ye supposed to be tough or something, dolly girl?"

Jayda looked down at her tunic and pants, wondering if it was the lack of dress that chased away her feminine charm.

"I'm not supposed to be anything, sir," she replied with a shrug. "Hurl your insults elsewhere."

"Oh, 'sir', is it?" He and his friends howled with laughter. "I was right. Yer a bleedin' coward! Admit it!"

"I've no interest in starting trouble," _or finishing it,_ she thought. "Gentlemen…" She tried to bow and take her leave, but the man threw himself in her path.

"Oh, o' course not," he said with a pout. "Yer a goody-goody, ain't ye?"

One of his friends shuffled by them, leaping and flapping his hands. "An adventurer, prancin' through the forests!" he said in his best girl voice. They laughed.

"Yes," she confirmed with a smile. "An adventurer, traveler, even goody-goody on occasion. Though the only prancing I've seen lately has been your friend there. Now, really, I've better things to do."

She tried to leave again, but the same man stood in her way.

"Amalas," someone said to him, "did she just insult us?"

"Poor baby! Poor little girl!" Amalas cried at her. "Going to run home to yer mother, aye? Oh, yes, ye are a scary one! Run to mommy, little girl!"

"Please move," she said with a clenched jaw, reminding herself over and over again to not succumb to idiocy.

"Oh, 'please move! Leave me alone!' Oooh, what is th' matter, aye? Am I scarin' ye down to yer little booties, aye, little girl?" He stepped closer to her and his rank breath nearly knocked her over. "I've no fear of ye, dolly girl. How about it, then, aye?"

Jayda rolled her eyes, but before she could try to move, Minsc's booming voice cut across the tavern.

"You insult Jayda?" he declared. "You insult me!"

"And this sparrow," Haer'dalis declared, sidling up next to Minsc to join in the revelry.

"A-and me!" Aerie declared, but Haer'dalis put a gentle hand to the top of her head, turned her about, and pushed her back into the crowd.

"Oy! Oy!" Amalas cried. "That sounds like a bleedin' challenge, it does. What's th' matter, dolly girl? Ye afraid to fight me without yer lackeys at yer back?"

Jayda glanced around and noticed the tavern had crowded around them. If she allowed Minsc and Haer'dalis to fight, she knew Amalas's friends would also fight… meaning the whole tavern would potentially erupt into violence and a fun night of singing and drinking would dissolve into an ugly bar brawl. She knew she had to settle it by herself to prevent that sort of thing from happening.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "If it's a fight you want, you should have just said so instead of trying to goad me into something like a shameless street wench!"

Amalas glared, flustered, and slammed his drink on the nearest table.

"Ye hears 'at, boys?" he said. "Looks like she wants t' fight!"

"No one said she was smart, aye?" one of his friends said, laughing.

"Hey, Surly!" Amalas called and a big, ugly man broke through the crowd. "I gots me here some gold for a fight! An' a loser to be, sure enough!"

Jayda grinned as the inn exploded into a betting uproar. The fighting ring was opened up and Amalas motioned to her as if to say, ladies first; she nodded acknowledging and stepped into the sandy pit and he followed after her. Surly spewed off the rules—and there really weren't very many—and then announced the spar started by a great bellow.

"Fiiiigggghhhht!" he exclaimed.

Jayda bounced on her toes, fists cocked and ready to block as she waited for Amalas to make the first move. He did, darting toward her and lashing out with a quick jab. She ducked to the side, dodging it, and bounced away from him. He came in several more times and, by the third attack, she had his fighting style down. He had a powerful swing and, if he were to hit her, she was sure it would hurt; but he was much slower than she was and he stunk of alcohol slowing him even more.

Jayda lured him into her space and waited for his punch. The moment it came, she ducked under his swing and connected two hits to his torso then swung upward and elbowed him in the chin. His body reeled with the blow, twisting him away. He stumbled, holding his mouth in pain as blood trickled from the corner of his lips. Jayda narrowed her gaze on him, resisting laughter.

"Wh… what? You're bleeding already?" she asked, baffled.

Amalas glared at her, gently touching his fingertips to his tongue.

"He bit his tongue!" someone cried out and the inn erupted in amusement.

Infuriated, Amalas charged her again. She barely shifted to his left, kneeing him in the stomach, and then elbowed his back. He slumped to the ground as she danced away from him again. Amalas turned in the sand, whipping grains up into a cloud with his clumsy shuffling, and he got to his feet.

"Stand still!" he exclaimed, spitting a wad of blood to the ground.

Jayda shrugged, lowered her arms, and stopped bouncing. "Come get me, then," she said.

Amalas glowered and came at her again. For a moment, he must have thought he would actually hit her; the crowd must have thought so, too, because a gasp shuddered across the room. But as soon as he was in reach, she swung forward and head-butt him so hard that he reeled. Then, with a fierce punch, she knocked him flat on his back.

The cheers overwhelmed her as she emerged from the pit. She didn't feel very deserving of the praise, knowing full well that Amalas never stood a chance. Still, it added to the merriment, so when the music and dancing struck up again, it seemed to have increased in energy.

Jayda noticed Gaelan by the bar, grinning at her. She smiled back, embarrassed, and waved. He waved, too. Then, a tavern wench appeared in front of him and ran a flirtatious hand up his arm. Jayda narrowed her gaze on the woman and pushed through the crowd.

"—and we could have some fun, if ye comprehend what I'm saying," the girl's high-pitched voice whined. Jayda reached out and snatched the woman's arm by the wrist and she spun her about.

"I comprehend that you're trying to ply your trade on the wrong person… and you're about to be the one regretting it," she said, and the wench shuffled off, intimidated. Jayda glanced over at Gaelan and noted his smirk.

"Tell that to yer bard friend," he said, passing her a drink.

"He's harmless," she replied. "He's an actor. Why, are you jealous?"

"I am," he replied honestly, surprising her. "I was never considered a possessive or jealous man, but I admit I want ye all to meself." He grinned. "Ye not jealous? Ye going to make such a claim when ye chasing off wenches and what-not?"

"A little bit," she whispered, motioning with her index finger and thumb.

The feral look in Gaelan's eyes stopped the breath in her throat.

...

Gaelan glanced over her shoulder and made sure there were plenty of bodies between them and her companions then he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She started to say that someone might see, but his mouth hungrily covered hers and stifled her protest. He wanted her so badly that he couldn't wait; he couldn't wait for them to meet at his house once everyone had gone to bed, or for them to slip away unnoticed. He needed her then. He desperately needed to feel her then.

"Someone will—" she gasped between kisses.

"No one saw," he assured her, linking his fingers with hers. He tugged her away from the bar but she pulled him back.

"My friends will wonder where I went. I should at least stay with them a while longer." She blushed. "These actors are making a big deal about an accident..."

"I'm about to make a big deal out of us," he said, grabbing her hand and pressing it to his crotch so it was very clear to her how great his need was. "Go right ahead and play with ye friends, an' I'll be right there along with ye, an' I'll be playin' with you…"

"Gaelan," she muttered breathily, and her desire was evident in her eyes.

"Gaelan nothin'," he said. "They have ye all the time. Now, be with me…"

He watched her sultry gaze darken. She suddenly kissed him and he reciprocated with equal fervor, then broke away and tugged her toward the back where Lehtinan once ran his other forms of entertainment. In a side hallway where only cooks and serving wenches passed, she slammed him into the wall and pressed up against him, their kisses hot and hungry. He scooped her thigh up onto his hip, pulling her pelvis closer to his. Patrons passed back and forth across the mouth of the hallway, inciting the exciting danger of being caught in the act of intimacy.

Gaelan's hand push into her pants and sought her warm depth. She shuddered under his pliant fingers, biting her bottom lip to stifle a cry.

"Ahh, Jayda," he whispered in discovery. "Ye bad, bad girl… Ye didn'a tell me ye were as anxious as I… That's cruel…"

"You could punish me, Gaelan," she murmured, obviously recalling their previous episode.

"If I wanted to punish ye," he said, reversing their positions and putting her back to the wall, "I'd just stop." She gave him a warning glare and he chuckled, driving another wince out of her. "Don't worry. I have no intention of stoppin'."

She pulled him into her mouth and kissed him. They exchanged heat and gasps, their desires leaving them breathless. It didn't take long for them to run out of patience—if it could even be called that—and so Gaelan withdrew his fingers, much to her dismay, and tugged her down the hall to one of the secret rooms once used for peddling flesh. A horde of colorful, silk pillows were still piled against the walls and covering the floor.

They kicked out of their boots and tore at each other's clothes until they were naked, intertwined, and falling onto the pillows. The celebratory noise from the tavern's main hall and muffled cries from other pleasure seekers hidden in secret rooms were heard through the walls.

So far, Gaelan had made love to her in his bed and his bath, and always in the safety and privacy of his own home. There in a public place, with the two of them barely contained like a couple of horny teenagers, their encounter felt different. They were either indulgent whores or yearning lovers. And Gaelan had come to regard her too deeply to consider her his whore.

He pushed into her and set an eager pace, holding her close, and ran his thumb along her lower, swollen lip that begged for his kisses. He obliged, brushing lips and tongues, neck and collarbone, until he found the sensitive hollow of her throat; he remained there, lost in the frenzy of her pleasure, until she took command and shoved him onto his back.

Jayda then climbed on top of him, pulling an appreciative groan from his throat. He gripped her waist and followed her motions, his hips thrusting upward to meet her. He felt her tense and heard her moans as she climaxed, but Gaelan wasn't finished.

At some point between his conversation with Renal and Haer'dalis convincing Jayda to dance with him, Gaelan had realized that he had feelings for her. She was no longer his client, a rogue, a Bhaalspawn, or even _a_ woman. She was _the_ woman. She was Jayda. And he went to bed every night thinking of her. His conscience had begun to feel guilt again after years of living without it whenever he thought about how she had been used.

These feelings were dangerous, and he knew he couldn't indulge them, but he couldn't stop himself from indulging in her, and that meant he also indulged in his feelings. And that left him very, very frustrated. So he worked his frustrations out on her. He scooped her thighs under his arms and, still on his knees, put her back to the wall. She cried out, moaning and wincing and panting in an erotic way that made his heart beat harder and faster.

He felt her legs tremble a second time, and he climaxed with her. They held their position for a moment, leaning on each other and huffing exhaustedly. Finally, she laughed and tugged him down onto the pillows, curling up against him. He held her close and kissed the top of her head.

"You leave nothing to be desired, my Shadow Thief," she said softly. Gaelan lifted his hand on her shoulders to brush her hair from her face. She leaned up to look at him.

"And neither do you, Bhaalspawn," he replied. He didn't know what possessed him to say it, but it just popped out. She frowned and drew away from him. He sat up and chased her with his hand, but she moved beyond his reach. "I don't care. It doesn't matter to me."

"Doesn't matter?" she echoed bitterly, standing up. "Of course it matters. It's the only thing that has ever mattered. It's why I'm here in this city, why your guild chose me, why you're even in bed with me. Everything in my life is because of that, even my friends. They gather to me, they fight for me, they die for me, because of me, because of this blood in my veins." She lowered her head. "And you, too, are here with me because of it."

"What?" he balked.

"You slept with me to ensure your Bhaalspawn ally's loyalties remained where you wanted them, didn't you?"

"And you?" he hissed angrily, getting to his feet. "Didn't ye sleep with me 'cause ye were hopin' to get information on Imoen, ay?"

"No…" she replied quietly. "No, I didn't."

"I didn't either," he snapped. "I slept with ye against better judgment 'cause I wanted ye, and I continue to do so 'cause I still want ye. And I haven't slept with anyone but you ever since 'cause yer all I want anymore."

Jayda was stunned, and she had good reason to be; Gaelan was likewise taken aback by his honesty, and confessing it to her was the same as confessing to himself. He backed her up and flattened his palms against the wall on either side of her head, trapping her there.

"Why me?" he wanted to know.

"I don't know," she whispered, and he was glad she didn't; it meant her feelings were honest. "I never asked for this… I hate it, Gaelan. I despise Bhaal and his curse, and that it rules my life. I feel tugged this way and that, like a puppet. And everyone is a puppeteer holding one of my strings, manipulating me to hurt and kill, to cause pain and suffering… They know not what they ask of me…" She lifted sad eyes to look at him with. "My soul, with every death, slowly awakens… and Bhaal becomes me, more and more."

He reached out and pulled her into a hug, breathing in the smell of her hair and skin. He recalled the night in his home when they'd fought, and he stopped her from leaving his house for fear she would kill someone. She had been trembling at his words, and now he understood what had frightened her. She was afraid she would lose control.

"Gaelan," she mumbled. "When I'm with you… I feel like there's a little darkness in all of us… and I'm nothing special. I feel like the whole world is tainted, and I'm just another thief in the night."

He laughed softly into her hair. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not…"

"It's good," she assured him, and kissed him tenderly.

He scooped her into his arms, lifting her off her feet, and then gently laid her down onto the pillows. He kissed her neck and shoulders, her arms and the entirety her back. He then cuddled up to her and closed his eyes, relaxing at her light touch as her fingertips traced his scars.

"Tell me a story," she whispered. He lifted his hand and caught hers mid-stroke. "Tell me how you got this scar."

"Well…" He folded their fingers together. "When I was just a young thief startin' out, barely into me own boots but balls like a bull, I took on a rather perilous deputation. See, I always been quick an' tricky with me tools, so I fancied meself the best lockpick in Amn…"

She laughed, provoking a chuckle from his own throat. He watched her stone gray eyes as he told her the story. He loved the dip in her brows and the tension in her gaze whenever he told a dangerous or sad part. He adored the way her eyes brightly lit up whenever he was funny or told of his victories.

/

Jayda stood in the courtroom again and the high jury sat on either side, blank expressions on all of her friends, loved ones, and the faces of people whose lives she had affected.

"Stand," Irenicus said, and everyone stood together with a thunderous movement. Jayda whirled around and glared at her tormenter sitting in the high judge's chair. "You rest each night, uneasy. Yes, you are weary. You struggle daily. It will not end, you know. Not until you acknowledge what you are." He glared down at her. "You walk as a mortal, taking no advantage from your heritage, from your talents within. So many things of flesh are greater than you."

Before her, a globe appeared and brightened. When it dissipated, a giant balor demon glowered hungrily at her.

"Walk among them," Irenicus continued, "these beasts that are less than you are. See their strength; see how easily you fall to their muscle and skill."

She cried out as the demon roared and charged her. She went for her swords and drew them, but the great demon towered over her, easily smacking her off-hand weapon aside. She swung with her main-hand but the blade shattered against his thick skin. Fear swept over it as he lifted his arm and cut her down with a mighty sweep of his clawed paw. She screamed, feeling the pain rip through her body. Blood splashed the floor.

Then, the balor froze and shattered, leaving nothing but the bleak courtroom. Her wounds were gone, the blood vanished, but her body continued to tremble in shock.

"Why do you stand for this?" Irenicus demanded to know. "Why do you submit to the flesh when death is bred in your bones?" He gripped the edges of his podium and leaned over to glare down at her. "Do you realize the power you might hold? When the world of flesh is beneath you, even creatures mysterious and magical will fall!"

He waved his hand angrily and three more globes ushered new enemies into the courtroom; another balor, an illithid, and a lich leered over her. Something inside of her felt different. With cold indifference—no, raw power—she lifted her arms and let loose a mighty bolt of magic. The illithid disintegrated. Before the lich could even cast a spell, she stretched one hand out and coiled her fingers, magically gripping the creature's throat. She lifted him of the ground, reveling in each kick and gargled gasp for breath. Then, his life left his body and he slumped in her invisible grip.

The balor charged her again, but she felt no fear. She dropped the lich and threw out her other hand, releasing another wave of energy. The balor exploded under her power. And then the light faded, and with it the illusions.

Jayda looked down at her palms, awed and terrified at what was flowing through her veins. She looked up at Irenicus and saw a portal swirling beneath him. In front of it, Imoen stood watching her with sad and judgmental eyes.

"Follow," he said, "and receive the gifts you are owed by the blood in your veins. Follow if only to protect the weak that fell because of you."

"Imoen!" Jayda screamed, lunging forward.

But it was too late. Her tormentor's magic reached her first, and pained screams rode the great shockwave of his power. Jayda was blown back and her world drowned in white.

/

Jayda walked out onto the roof of the Copper Coronet, rubbing her arms in the chilly night. The moon shone brightly in the dark sky. This late, even the Slums seemed to have fallen asleep. She sighed and wiped the cold sweat from her brow.

Another dream… another terrible nightmare. She looked down at her palm and noticed how her body still trembled. Was Irenicus right? Would it be better to follow? Would she really be able to protect those she loved by accepting the curse in her veins? She didn't know. She didn't want it to be true. He was an evil man, but was he a liar? Everything about him screamed wickedness and darkness, but there was heartless logic and cool intellect there as well.

"Heavy thoughts, my raven?" Haer'dalis asked.

Jayda jumped and turned, spying him perched on a box in the shadows. He hopped down and came to stand beside her, hands in his pockets and a serene expression on his handsome face.

"Yes," she replied quietly.

"What of?" he wanted to know, but when she didn't answer right away, he shook his head. "Forgive me. It is none of my business."

"I do not wish to burden you," she told him.

"Fair raven, an actor's job is burden… burden and beauty, deception and truth, death and creation! A bard's life is burden and blessing, bondage and liberty, wicked deeds and brave battles, destruction and hope. But me, I am more than I seem." He turned to face her, looking deep into her eyes—almost into her. "And you, my raven, are more than you seem…"

"I am a child of Bhaal," she whispered, and he did not seem surprised nor did he shrink away in fear. He merely stared. "I am darkness and death, a curse upon Toril, and soon… I will become Bhaal himself. Everywhere I have gone, people around me have died. Good, evil, and those innocents merely in the way. If I ran, they fell. If I stood and fought, they fell. Now I am told to accept this gift," she showed him her wrist, the blue veins beneath her skin, the blood rushing through her whole body, "or watch the world die. I am told to accept this gift if only to save the people that I love from death.

"I am a plague, Haer'dalis. And I can do nothing but watch as the destruction spreads. No matter what good I do, what smiles I bring, what lives I save… a hundred more end because of me! If I run, they die! If I fight, they die!" She hung her head. "And I want to live… but not at that price…"

He reached out and gently took hold of her shoulders.

"If all you can do is run or fight, then you must decide which is best to do. Run to the ends of Faerun, if you must, through the planes if you can, or stand and fight all that comes at you. If those around you are destined to fall, then make your decision to run or fight, and do it. Do not suffer under the weight of the dead hoping for answers, praying for a solution. You will drown."

"I am already drowning…"

"Then come up, raven, and take a breath. There are those ready to fight and die at your side, and they have made the choice to be with you. Protect them if you can. And let them protect you. Do not walk this path alone."

"But I feel so alone."

Haer'dalis smiled and dropped his hands back to his sides. "But you are not. I counted five men and women tonight who would follow you to the Nine Hells and beyond."

"I don't know if Boo counts as a person…" she mumbled and he gave her a look. "What? I know you're not counting Edwin…"

"Fair." He grinned. "And what of the young thief you slipped out of the celebration with?"

She blushed. "You saw?"

"Oh, I saw, and I rarely see such passion I myself am not a part of." He winked coyly. "You should let love protect you, for it is the grand giver of wings and strength; it bolsters the heart, gives courage, renews faith, and births bright miracles in the darkness."

"I would not say that Gaelan loves me," she mumbled awkwardly, intimidated by his poetry.

"And what of you, raven? Do you love him?"

Jayda took a deep breath and considered the moon. She remembered her own words: that he made her feel like just another thief in the night. That was what she had always wanted… to live, unchained by godblood, as just another being on Faerun… to feel like she had growing up in Candlekeep. Ever since Gorion had died, Jayda had never felt that way again. Until she met Gaelan.

"I don't know…"

"My raven," Haer'dalis began with a smile, "if you do not know, that is a good indication that you are. Do not give me that look. I recognize it when I see it. I live for that kind of beauty, that frozen sorrow—the lily among the thorns. Yours is a sad, sad tale, Jayda… and that, too, is beauty." He gently took her hand and lifted it, gliding his thumb over her wrist. "The ugliness of this blood, the taint and curse, the death… it is beautiful, too. One day, I will sing your story, my raven, and many will weep for you and your tragic beauty."

"I would rather be one of those listening to yours songs," she said and pulled her arm back, "than to be the one you sing about."

"And that is why it must be your story that is sung."

Jayda closed her eyes and lowered her head.

"Life and death," Haer'dalis said quietly, "will always be a part of this world, as you or I or Bhaal… There will always be something bigger than us, ageless, and we will ebb and flow with the great current of time, and know that just as all things must end—even gods—all things begin anew."


	15. The Delryn Family

**A/N: **Moving is really taking up a lot of time. I sat on this chapter for awhile, having to keep taking a break and coming back to it, and its not even very long. x3 Sorry for that. I won't be fully settled from the move until probably... the end of the week, but as soon as I get moved and settled, I will be making regular updates again. :) I know this moment veers off from how the game handled it, but I felt... more umph was needed, so in spite of how... wonky it might read from my back-and-forth, I hope it is enjoyable none-the-less.

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**The Delryn Family**

"Anomen Delryn, son of Cor?" a messenger asked and, from the way his face hung and his brow was creased, Jayda could tell that something was wrong.

"I am he," Anomen confirmed, turning from his conversation with her to address the messenger.

As Jayda was waiting for the go ahead to meet with the Shadowmaster, she and her friends mostly busied themselves with personal affairs. Minsc had decided to continue helping at the Docks for extra coin. Jaheira had begun to school Aerie on all of the life lessons she felt the little mage-priest should be aware of. Edwin was studying tomes he'd taken from Melkrath's laboratory. Anomen returned to the Radiant Heart building for minor duties. And all that left Jayda plenty of time to worry over the coming war.

So she had packed a lunch for Minsc, taken it to him at his job, and decided to stop in to visit Anomen for a quick chat—all proper forms of procrastination and distraction. Then the messenger came with the grim look about him and she knew the beautiful day would soon sour.

"I come as the bearer of dire news," the man said. "Your father requests your presence at his estate."

"Dire news, say you?" Anomen asked, annoyed. "What reason would I have to return to my father?"

The messenger swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

"Your sister is dead," he said quietly and Jayda's face fell. "Most foully murdered, by all accounts."

"Dead?" Anomen whispered hollowly and she had to lunge to keep him on his feet. "Dead? Murdered? How can this be?" His distress turned to rage and he leapt at the messenger, grabbing his collar and jerking him about. "Why would you say such a thing? Why?"

"Anomen!" Jayda cried, forcing the men apart.

"I am truly sorry, m'lord," the messenger said, bowing respectfully. He slowly inched away, nodding appreciatively at Jayda for intervening.

She regarded Anomen somberly and his shattered expression broke her heart. The blow had stunned him, mouth gaping; she realized he had unconsciously stopped breathing, because after a moment he took a great, shaky breath and staggered backward.

"Dead…?" he whispered. His broken, blue gaze met hers, demanding her to be strong. "I have to go…"

She reached out and grasped his shoulder. "Let us go and see your father together."

He nodded, but she could tell by his blank expression and hollow tone that he was in shock. They walked silently across the city, shoulder to shoulder, and she was so lost in her thoughts about what had happened and how terrible she felt for Anomen that she was surprised when they found themselves in front of his estate.

The door guard rushed to them.

"Lord Anomen! Welcome home," he said. "Your father waits within. He is in the kitchen… deep in drink."

Anomen nodded numbly. "He is… angry with me?"

Jayda wondered how that could possibly be the case, but when the guard sighed, she got a sick feeling in her stomach.

"Yes, m'lord…" he replied. "Things have become… worse…"

Anomen only nodded again, staring at the ground.

"I expected as much… Let us enter."

The guard gave a crisp salute and opened the door for them. They entered the quiet estate and white, marble floors with elegant leaf-patterns stretched out before them. Blue walls with bronze light fixtures and expensive paintings formed the large rooms. A large pool with a kneeling dryad fountain graced the first room they came to, filling the house with the sound of running water.

"Father?" Anomen called, but his voice stopped in his throat when his eyes fell on the funeral shrine in front of the pool. White lilies surrounded the marble and the name Moira was carved across the arch. A delicate urn stood in the center of the shrine. "Moira… No…" he whispered, walking over to it.

He reached out and gently touched the top of the urn, following its convex curve downward in a light caress. His pained face nearly shattered the tense silence and Jayda could only stand helpless on the side-lines, wondering what she could say, how she could comfort him… and if she would not be in his place someday soon, staring down at Imoen's ashes.

Too late. Would she come too late?

"Well," a throaty laugh came from the door opposite the shrine, "the prodigal son returns." Lord Cor stood in the doorway, leaning against the threshold, a large goblet in hand. "Tell me son, how far have you roamed running away from me?"

"Father," Anomen began and Jayda noticed that even as he turned to face his father, his finger remained touched lovingly to the urn, like a boy holding to his mother's skirt. "What happened? What happened to Moira?"

"Idiot boy!" his father shouted, suddenly becoming angry. "She's dead!" he spewed. "Murdered by the Calimshite fiends!"

"What?" he exhaled in disbelief, tears forming in his ducts. "How did this happen? Why?"

"Why? _Why_?" Cor boomed angrily, stomping into the room in drunken rage. "He killed her because he could! He killed her because he _could_! It was not enough for him to take my business! He had to take my Moira, too!"

"Who?" Anomen asked, distressed and confused. "You're saying this had to do with _you_, with your business?" A flicker of red began crawling into his neck and jaw.

"Saerk," Cor hissed venomously, spittle wetting his lips. "For years I embarrassed him amongst the merchants, undercut his prices and stole his customers." Cor paced along the edge of the pool, eyes wild as though he were mad and tongue slurring from too much wine. "When my business failed, he had a monopoly on the Calimshan shipping routes. He would not be happy until I had nothing." He suddenly waved his fist. "Nothing! And by the end, Moira was all that I had, and so he took her, too!"

"But where were the guards?" Anomen yelled back, eyes red with tears not yet spilled. His fists clenched tight and his voice cracked. "Why was she not protected?"

Cor waved his son's questions off with a sweep of his arm and took a long pull of his goblet. He exhaled the stink of wine and hobbled over to the statue fountain, staring at the bubbling froth in the pool. It was almost as though he saw something in the water that appealed to his humanity because his face softened and his mouth dipped into an open frown.

"The guards left months ago," he replied. "I had no money to pay them with… I have lost everything… Soon," his voice broke, "I will lose my house as well… every brick… every stone. Saerk has taken all of it." His fist clenched so tightly around his goblet that it began shaking, spilling tiny drops of red over the golden rim and into the churning pool below. "All of your mother's and sister's things… my pride… my good name… everything!"

"He didn't take it, father!" Anomen exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Cor. "_You_ lost it! You lost it all! You squandered your money _and_ your sanity deep in drink! Your reputation, your servants, the guards, our things… and now Moira's life!"

Cor tossed the wine cup and it clanged loudly against the marble floor; a red arc rainbowed with each bounce of the cup, splattering the stones and mixing with the water in large, crimson droplets.

"I lost it because you abandoned your family!" Cor boomed, scarlet with rage. "If you hadn't run away, Moira would still be alive!"

Jayda watched as Anomen's anger was snuffed out and his face slackened with horror. The drunken fool had gone too far, blaming Anomen, and she could tell her friend was buying the blithering fool's story. She clenched her fists, knowing she should not involve herself; his father hadn't even noticed she was there. But the way Anomen shrank away from him filled her with fury.

"You should have been here to protect her!" Cor wailed, looming over his son as Anomen shrank to his knees and filled his hands with his head. "You should have been here to save her from the brigands! You should have been here, Anomen!" he cried as his son's shoulders shook with sobs. "But you weren't! You were off killing trolls in someone else's Keep—serving another family while your own suffered, while your sister was _murdered_!"

"That's enough!" Jayda yelled, jumping over the pool and forcing herself between the Delryn men. "That. Is. _Enough_!"

"Who are you?" he hissed, raising his hand. "Who is this you've brought into my house, Anomen? Who is this whore you've brought into _my_ house?"

He swung to strike her and she caught his wrist as Anomen jumped to his feet. She realized she wasn't controlling her anger only too late when Cor stumbled away from her. The glow in her eyes reflected in hid wide, fear-filled ones.

"W-what are you?" he muttered, back against the dryad statue and knuckles white as he gripped it to support him. "A demon?"

"You see a demon? Then I am a looking glass," she replied, narrowing her gaze on him. "Do not blame Anomen for problems you could not contend with. You made this mess, not him!"

"Jayda," Anomen said hollowly, gently touching her shoulder. "He is right. I should have been here… I should have protected her… It was my duty… as a knight of the Order… as a… brother." His voice cracked again and more tears rose to spill over his cheeks. "I have failed her."

"No, Anomen," Jayda began, but Cor spoke over her.

"It is too late to save her, son, but something can still be done!" He straightened himself and slowly approached. "Justice can be done!"

"What justice?"

"She can be avenged, Anomen…" he whispered hoarsely. "You must kill Saerk and his son! It is the only way for Moira's spirit to be at rest!"

"No, Anomen," Jayda said firmly, gripping his shoulders. "Killing for the purpose of revenge is murder by the tenets of the Order—you told me so yourself. Do not let thoughts of vengeance cloud your judgment—"

"Saerk is an evil man and it is every knight's responsibility to destroy evil, is it not? Your sister's murder cannot go unpunished, Anomen, or are you so worthless a knight as you are a son and a brother that you would let your own cowardice stand in the way of justice?"

"Your father is a drunk and a fool. Saerk must be brought to justice, and I will help you do that. But this is not the way!"

"Do not listen to her, Anomen! You are honor-bound to find your sister's killer and take his life! What have you left if not even your honor?"

"You are honor-bound to the vows you made to the Order…" she reminded him quietly.

Anomen's torn expression as he looked from father to friend pulled at Jayda's heart. She didn't want to put him in this position—choosing between his only family and her—but she knew she could not let his father manipulate him anymore than he already had.

His broken, blue eyes looked beyond her to the urn of his sister's ashes. Jayda slowly stepped out of the way so that he could clearly see the shrine. He studied it for a long moment and only the churning of the pool filled the awkward silence.

"This was the place Moira loved the most…" Anomen whispered with his emotion-filled, raspy voice. "She loved the water and the statue's elegant form… She felt most at peace here. What would she think of it now?"

"Anomen," Jayda said softly. "If you are to act, do not do it for your father… or for me. Do it for Moira. Would she want you to take the law into your own hands? Or would she want you to uphold the vows you worked so hard to make?" She let the thought weigh in his mind a moment, and the small, sad smile that twinged in the corner of his mouth gave her hope. "The path you are considering is evil, Anomen… do not take it."

"You are right," he said quietly. "I feel it in my bones… and in my heart." He turned to his father and, with eyes ringed red from sorrow and voice hoarse, he shook his head. "Killing Saerk in vengeance would be murder as surely as my sister's death was and I will not do it. Keep your hatred and bitterness, and drown in your sorrows if you must, but I will not drown with you."

"You despicable wretch! You insect!" Cor's face contorted with anger and disbelief. "You dishonor Moira's memory! You allow your sister's killer to go free! You dishonor me and complete my defeat!"

"This is about you and only you! Your daughter's death means nothing beyond how it affects your pride and your comfort!"

"You will hold your tongue and respect me! I am still your father, the head of this family, and you will obey me!"

Cor lunged at his son but could not hold his balance when Anomen raised his arm to block the rush. Cor stumbled back and fell to the ground, glaring flustered and shocked up at him. Anomen frowned and Jayda traced some soft lines in his expression, reading the emotions playing across his face; he still held love for his father, in spite of it all, and the regret and apology in his eyes spoke louder than his words ever could. But Lord Cor was a wall of pride and hatred, and he rejected Anomen's love before he could even give it.

"I have obeyed you all of my life and received naught but bitterness in return," Anomen hissed quietly. "It is time for this foolishness to end. I will take this before the magistrate and Saerk will be brought before the courts if he is indeed the one who murdered Moira. I have sworn to uphold the law and, unlike you, I shall do so."

Anomen turned to leave and Jayda took a step forward to accompany him, but Cor's last revenge stopped them both in their tracks.

"If you step out that door then you must never come within again," he growled, spinning them back around. "If you leave now, you are forever banished from this place! You will be cast from this family and become a nameless dog, not fit to cower at my feet!"

"I have been cowering at your feet for all my life!" Anomen shouted suddenly. "Cowering before a bitter drunk who knows nothing of fatherhood or family, justice or honor! I pity you… and doubt I shall see you again before you drink yourself to death. Goodbye, father."

"You are nothing, boy! Nothing! Guard, remove them! Get them out of my home!" Cor screeched and bellowed, chasing after their departure with slurs, slander, and curses, all while continually shouting that Anomen was nothing.

Before they departed, Anomen bent and gently kissed his sister's urn, and then they quickly left the Delryn home. Outside, he collapsed to his knees and produced a white lily, cradling it gently in the palms of his hands. Then, he wailed and sobbed, mourning the death of his sister… and of Anomen Delryn, now the nameless squire of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart.

Jayda quietly knelt in front of him and pressed the top of her head to his. She watched his shoulders shake and the tear droplets fall onto the white petals, and she cursed her dark father, the Lord of Murder, who sought to take every happiness away from the people in her life; first Minsc's witch, then Jaheira's husband, and now Anomen's little sister.

/

Gaelan Bayle did not hear someone enter the room until she was already upon him. His head snapped up from the rim of the tub and he reached for the knife he kept hidden under that rim, but he relaxed when he saw Jayda walking somberly toward him. Her boots and pants were gone and she was pulling her tunic away from her chest, letting it fall down her shoulders and to the floor. She finished undressing as she approached, but her face did not hold lust or passion; she seemed drained of energy and her eyes were swollen from tears.

"Jayda?" he began as he sat up. "Are ye—"

But his words were stolen from his throat when she climbed into the tub, straddled him, and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her against him, waiting for her to tell him what was wrong. She didn't for a long time; she just laid there. Then, he felt her index and middle finger tapping gently on his skin. It took him a minute to realize she was tapping out the pattern of his own heartbeat.

"Anomen's sister was murdered," she whispered. "Moira, the sister that I remind him so much of, was murdered while he was helping me clear the De'Arnise Keep. His father berated him… blamed him… and then bade him take revenge." She looked up at him. "I… stopped him…" she said with a furrowed brow and a tone as though she were confused by her own words. "I said we would do the lawful thing. I said we would take it to the magistrate…"

"And?"

"And she said there was nothing that could be done. Not enough evidence, not enough proof." She closed her eyes and a fresh tear slipped down her cheek. "I stopped him and he disobeyed his father, was disowned and cast out, and now lies a husk in his bunk, believing himself a failure… to his sister, to his father, to the Order…"

She swiped at her cheek but more tears came. Gaelan did not like the fact that she shed tears for another man's pain. He did not like Anomen and he did not like how stuck on her the knightling was. But he knew he could not claim her. He had accomplished all he knew he could and had set out to do: become her lover and earn her trust. He had. But he knew she would not choose him. A young knight was every woman's dream, was it not? And here she was… in his arms, naked, and weeping for another man…

Gaelan brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, feeling a twinge in his chest; a twinge of jealousy, of bitterness, of resentment, of sympathy, of… love.

"Ye stopped him 'cause ye believed it to be the right thing to do," he reminded her. She shook her head and scoffed at herself.

"The right thing…" she echoed bitterly. "I would not have done the 'right thing'. I would have killed the bastard and smiled before I gut him."

"Aye, as you or I… but I don't mean to say ye would have done what ye had him do… I mean ye stopped him 'cause ye believed it was the right path for him." He relished the soft look of astonishment that suddenly came onto her face; it pleased him to surprise her with just how well he understood her. "Didn't ye say ye liked his innocence? Aren't ye just tryin' to preserve it, then?"

"Gaelan…" she whispered, but said nothing else. He stroked her cheeks with his thumb again. He wanted to believe the love in her eyes was for him, but was afraid it was for Anomen.

"Ye like for me to look into it for ye? See if I can't catch a few trails or find a few snippets of proof?"

"You would do that for me?" she asked.

Would he? After all, who was he to her but a messenger and a thief? He was a dangerous affair, a vault of secrets, good for a laugh, and an occasional comfort. He was a contact. He was her handler. But he was nothing more than that. He could not accompany her on her adventures; he could not fight for her, side-to-side or back-to-back. Her companions did not even know how deep their relationship went, that they were anything more than business associates.

Not like Anomen, who could and would follow her wherever she went. Not like Anomen, who was innocent and pure—a perfect example of what she wanted most. He was a white knight living in the light. And Gaelan was a shadow that made her feel like everything and everyone was just as tainted as she was.

"For you… I do anything within me power to do," he told her, gently pushing her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He could be there for her at the moment when she truly needed him, right? "I am ye handler, after all… Speakin' of which, the Shadowmaster sent word. Ye can go an' see him now."

She gently pushed up and softly kissed him. He tenderly returned her kisses, holding back from releasing any ounce of passion lest he lose control. Then, he tightened his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head, hoping to provide some semblance of calm or consolation to her troubled spirit.

"Gaelan," she whispered, pushing out of his hold so that she could look into his eyes. "It's okay. I _want_ you to comfort me…"

He took a deep, unsteady breath and clung to the last of his self-control.

"I… don't trust meself not to…" but before he could finish with the right words, she put her finger to his lips.

"You'll give me exactly what I need…"

The last threads of control snapped and Gaelan could no longer hold back. He gathered her into him and kissed her, finding he was astonishingly capable of the gentleness and tenderness he was afraid he wouldn't be able to give. So he made love to her—a quiet, slow rhythm—and he filled it with emotion to ease her suffering, constantly reminding himself that even the illusion of love could soothe a sorrowful soul.

And he reminded himself over and over again that releasing that love was neither dangerous nor a mistake, because it was just an illusion. He was only comforting her; that was all he wanted to do. It was an illusion. There would be no consequences.


	16. Night Fiends

**Author's Note: **So... I'm mostly done moving and I think things have settled enough for me to start writing regularly again, so expect more updates more often! Thanks for bearing with me, you guys. ^_^ Sorry it took so long.

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**Night-Fiends**

Gaelan had given her the instructions on how to access the Shadowmaster's quarters and, with those instructions, placed a key into her hand. Aran Linvail was the name. He would be expecting her. Jayda's gaze glanced around the Shadow Thieves guild hall as she was led through its hidden corridors, noting all of the eyes that watched her pass by. No doubt they all were thinking the same thing: here walks the Bhaalspawn, the Shadowmaster's secret weapon and latest toy. She passed through training areas for young thieves and by hallways that led to torture chambers where victims screamed for mercy.

How all of this had remained hidden beneath the guild hall was not unbelievable but still surprising. She recalled crossing the floor directly above her head every time she visited Renal Bloodscalp. She had been so close to her quarry, she realized, and yet still so far.

Jayda sighed and continued ahead until the thief stopped and motioned for her to proceed alone. As she walked, she recalled her meeting with Anomen that morning, and how scarlet his face had been.

"_My anger has built to the point when I am shaking with pure rage!" he said. "My father—that rude, drunken bastard—has cast me out of the family when I was only doing what I must! I cannot take vengeance when there is no proof, and he knows it! And yet my heart cries out for vengeance! That my sister should lie murdered and the murderer laughs, untouched—" He spun and punched the wall so hard he left a dent and bloodied his knuckles. "Did I do the right thing? Tell me I did the right thing! Should the dictates of honor truly overcome duty and justice? She is murdered and nothing done for it!"_

Jayda frowned, torn. She had advised him to this path and was then asked to assure him that he had done the right thing. How could she have obliged his request when she herself would not have been so noble as he? When they parted ways, he was still angry and just as hollow, unmotivated to do anything but mourn and rage.

Jayda put the complicated matter out of her mind when she reached the Shadowmaster's door. She knocked and waited for the door to open, finding a young and diminutive serving girl peering through the crack at her.

"The master has been expecting you," she said quietly, and then opened the door wide.

Jayda stepped into the room and locked eyes with Aran Linvail. He was tall and handsome with only a few scars sliced into his jaw, and he wore a silk robe as though he'd just finished his bath; his cool, gray eyes locked onto hers with power and curiosity. The wench on his arm loosed her claws and she slunk away, sizing Jayda up as she passed with a snide curl to her lip. The two women departed and closed the door, leaving the Shadowmaster and Bhaalspawn alone.

"Welcome to my humble place here," he began, and Jayda glanced around; nothing about the elegant bed, large and bubbling bath, marble floor, and ornate light fixtures seemed humble. "I've looked forward to seeing you. I am, as you know, Aran Linvail."

"I am, as you know, Jayda," she replied calmly, though her sarcasm did not go unnoted. "Now, could we do what we must? I've paid a very large sum of gold to be here."

"Right to the point, eh?" he asked with a grin; his draping sleeves swished as he brought his arms up and touched his fingertips together. "That's fine with me." He took a step toward her. "I have heard so much about you. Tales of the beautiful Bhaalspawn that has graced our fair city with sword and spell, from freeing slaves in the Slums to usurping ambitious thieves and rescuing besieged castles, reach my ear and not a day goes by, I feel, when I do not hear of another of your remarkable feats or skills." A sensuous expression darkened his eyes. "And Gaelan slain to a very… very interesting skill set…"

"Your spies report much, even things that will be of no use to you," she replied casually, moving opposite to his steps so that they slowly circled one another. He laughed and shrugged.

"We'll see…" he said. "Whiskey or wine?"

"Excuse me?"

"To drink," he answered as he crossed to his liquor tray. "What do you want to drink?"

"I don't drink when I'm working."

"Ah, but this is a business meeting, not work," he told her as he poured two glasses of whiskey. "Besides, a good drink can make work more enjoyable. It can loosen you up to all sorts of possibilities previously overlooked."

"Just what kind of ideas are you trying to loosen me to, Shadowmaster?"

He passed her a drink. "None yet, Bhaalspawn… but I assure you, it's nothing you haven't already done…"

She did not like the gleam in his eye but sipped the drink and pretended as though it didn't bother her. Aran studied her silently for a moment, his eyes quickly flickering over the features of her face. Then, he sipped his drink and turned to wander away from her.

"You are a very… capable person," he said seriously, "and I wish to propose a trade of services."

"Yes, of course you do," she replied, "because my gold was, of course, not enough to broker such aid as first presented."

He feigned sympathy. "I apologize if you feel you have been wronged. I assure you, all that you have paid is being put to good use. But these things take time… In truth, we have been working long before you gave us the gold. Only a few minor points remain, but they must be addressed… Now, I know you are eager to set off after Imoen, and I assure you that the time will come soon—"

"You can dispense with the sales pitch, Linvail. I am not some witless tool come for aid. I am one of you, so do not make the mistake of thinking otherwise."

He smiled. "You are every bit the woman Gaelan described," he murmured. "With the yes-men, the back-stabbers, the over-zealous and the unmotivated—I spend so much of my day disappointed. I am glad you are not one of those disappointments." He opened his palms to her. "Very well, let us speak plainly."

"You want me to end this guild war for you," she said, "against the Night-Fiends."

"I know you are tired and have worked hard already, but admittedly… the war does prevent us from going further. Before we proceed, our own investments must be ensured."

"Of course," she acknowledged bitterly.

"Strange things are afoot on the Docks—shipments disappearing, my men with them—and we are significantly weakened by this. That cannot be allowed to continue. Since it is unlikely you would be captured or wooed to the enemy, I want you to go down to the Docks and bolster the guard on the shipments; it will strengthen our position. Find out what you can, but put an end to this harassment. Go at night and speak with my guard captain, a woman by the name of Mook. Dock Three. Take note of anything odd that happens and report to me. Kill whoever interferes."

"All right," she agreed. "And how many of these _errands_ can I expect to run?"

Aran smiled, crossed to her and stopped at her side, then placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You are special to me…" he said quietly, dangerously, "but not so special that I will overlook every slight. You should watch your tongue, Bhaalspawn, lest our relationship sour…"

"And you should watch yours, Shadowmaster," she replied darkly. "I am not afraid of you. You need me to do something you cannot… and I am willing so long as you do something _I_ cannot."

After a long pause, he nodded. "Good hunting," was all he said and then he walked away.

Jayda lifted her chin and resisted a grin then left the Shadowmaster's room. Up on the main floor of the guild hall, Renal Bloodscalp eyed her from across the room. She hesitated, surprised by his serious expression. He gave her a small nod of respect, of acknowledgement, of thanks, for luck—she wasn't sure what it was for. She nodded back and then left.

/

Jayda, Minsc, Jaheira, Aerie, and Edwin stormed across the Docks district late at night and Jayda marched with fury. She was angry at herself, angry at Anomen, angry at the bastard who murdered Moira… but mostly with herself.

She had gone to check on Anomen before they departed to ask him how he was. He had noticed her swords and armor and flew into a rage, balking at her audacity to ask action of him when he was in mourning. She hadn't intended to ask anything of him, nor had she intended to burden his grief with her anger… but his seething speech had caused her to snap.

"_How would you have felt if you had killed him and he'd been innocent, Anomen?" she screamed. "It's not _your_ place to seek justice, it's the duty of the law! _Your_ law! And if you don't uphold it, who will?"_

Her jaw clenched at the memory and his paled expression. He had stared at her so surprised that one might think she had just run him through with a sword. That pain, that taint of innocence, the poison of anger—it was what she wanted to keep him from. But that would be impossible, wouldn't it? Especially if he remained in her company.

She nearly punched the nearest wall, but refrained. She was cursed—cursed by Bhaal and the maddening meddles of the gods. Murder. Her father reveled in it, lorded over it, and she was his child… designed to be his rebirth into the world. She was his child, thus murder was her own responsibility, her punishment, her charge. Was Moira's murder her burden, too? Just because she did not take the life herself, did that absolve her? Like any other god, Bhaal required homage, and murder was the adequate prayer. If she was his seed, regardless of her intentions, was she just as responsible?

The possibility would drive her mad.

"I can't believe that after all we have done, they send us back out into the streets like errand boys. We paid their fee, we bought their services, we should be treated as any other client," Edwin complained, mostly to himself. "You don't see them sending nobles or merchants out into the Docks to guard shipments and muscle rivals. Though rumor says the Shadowmaster intends to pass us gifts of magical potential. Finally, something tangible, though they had better be worth the enormous expense. I might have bought better if Jayda had not already paid them…"

"The gold wasn't important, Edwin," Aerie said seriously. "We have to help Jayda locate Imoen and this Irenicus person."

"What color is the sky in your world, little girl?" Edwin snapped, and then looked away and muttered to himself. "Gods! Such ignorance of common sense."

Suddenly, a man came out of the darkness, his pale and bony finger pointing wildly at them. His crazed eyes were glassy and his white beard was scraggly and twisted. They tried to avoid him but he followed after them, waving his finger wildly.

"You!" he boomed. "Bow, worm, and pray that Cyric allows you to become one of His holy worshippers! Cast aside whatever false god you pray to and embrace the Prince of Lies in all His majesty!"

The moment the word Cyric left the old, mad cleric's lips, Jayda had stopped. Her vision had momentarily blanked and uncontrollable anger had thundered through her like an earthquake. She whirled around, enraged, and stalked toward him.

"I'll never bow to that treacherous worm!" she boomed, blood boiling. She felt a hand grip her arm to pull her back.

"Remember who you are!" Jaheira demanded and, without skipping a beat, Jayda pulled from her grasp and continued forward.

"That's exactly what I'm doing!" Jayda replied.

The cleric must have seen something that scared him because he momentarily shook with fear. Then, he found his strength and attacked her, lunging wildly with a dagger.

"Then suffer cruelly as one of Cyric's chosen victims!" he shrieked.

Jayda easily ripped her sword from her sheath and her face was like stone as the madman impaled himself on it. She ripped it out and stabbed him again.

"I will _never_ be one of his victims," she hissed, her voice not but a whisper. The frail creature trembled in shock, spit up blood, and then slumped to the ground. When the thump resounded in her ears, Jayda snapped out of the angry trance that momentarily overtook her. She closed her eyes regrettably and turned, swiftly walking by her companions toward the shipping yard. "Let's go…" she mumbled numbly.

Tonight was not going well for her.

"Jayda—" Jaheira started.

"Don't," she said, cutting her off. "Not now."

And the group continued on in uncomfortable silence. They passed the road to Mae'Var's old guildhouse and Jayda spared only a glance in its direction. The memories of his tongue on her skin and his eyes deadlocked with hers mere inches from her face—they gave her chills. She shook it off, and it was easy to do considering her current shame and disbelief. She had snapped again, lost control. Over what? Some madman in the streets? He had attacked her and she had killed him; she had killed him when she could have disabled him and she felt no ounce of remorse. Not even now, with her wits returned, did she feel sorry for what she had done. She wanted to. But the sympathy was not there.

They found the third dock access and descended the steps to the foggy platform. A woman slipped from the shadows and approached them. Her hood was up but black curls snaked over her shoulders and her tanned skin proved she was a woman used to labor.

"Tis a grand eve to be sittin' on the docks, rank with the smell of fish guts," she mumbled sarcastically. "You must be Jayda, Aran's little helper."

"And you must be Mook," she replied, planting her hands on her hips.

"I am. Bloody fine to have some backup. I've heard a bit about you. Aren't you a bit too heroic to be guardin' shipments for Aran?"

Jayda shrugged. "It's a stepping stone on the path to bigger problems."

"Glad I could play a part in your little drama," Mook retorted casually. Jayda ignored the comment, knowing the thieves were too curious not to try to provoke at least some information out of her.

"What's the situation?" she wanted to know.

"The situation is that I've seen the same man pass by four times," Mook replied. "He looked a bit different each time but I knew it was him."

"And how did you know?" Edwin sneered in doubt.

"I'm _trained_ to know," she shot back. "I've been watchin' him from the shadows here all day." She turned her attention back to Jayda. "He was casin' the area and studyin' me."

"Think he'll come back?" Jayda wanted to know.

"Oh, he'll come back. Since you're here to watch the product, I'll be able to get in closer and hopefully learn something from him the next time he appears. It shouldn't be too long; the guy is like clockwork."

"All right, where do you want us?"

Mook pointed behind her to a stack of crates beneath the staircase.

"Have your friends take position there. Even without the rogue's talent, they shouldn't be easily spotted, what with all this fog. You keep near me. I'm going to scout above. I won't go far. If I don't check in every half hour, come look for me," she explained.

Jayda nodded that she understood and, within ten minutes, had her friends hidden among the crates. Mook disappeared and, as promised, returned every half hour to check in. After nearly four hours had ticked by and Edwin was beginning to fall asleep, Mook returned but this time her pace was quick.

"He comes," she hissed quietly. "Keep hidden. I'll see what I can find out."

Mook propped herself up against the support column as Jayda ducked back into the darkness. After a moment, a pale figure appeared. His features were sharp, his face gaunt, and there was a lifeless pallor to his flesh. Jayda recalled the Night-Fiends that had attacked Mae'Var's guild and remembered they bore similar features.

"Hail, friend!" Mook began, sipping on a flask as though she'd been lounging on the Docks all night, drinking. "Tis a fine evenin' for a stroll, no?"

"Mook," the man began with a deep and gruff voice. "I've been looking for you."

"Oi," she hollered drunkenly. "Who is it speakin' to me like an old acquaintance, ay?"

The Night-Fiend came closer.

"It is fitting, Mook, for I have been watching you." The sensuality in his voice was unmistakable and the way his eyes opened to hers was trancelike. "Truly, my beauty," he caressed the side of her face, "it is time for you to leave this life. Guarding the spoils of another man's crime is no way for a woman to live."

There was a long pause where Jayda stared at Mook's back and thought the thief was going to give in to the charm. Mook leaned forward, as if drawn into the Night-Fiend's gaze, and Jayda nearly leapt from her hiding place and interrupted them. She paused only when the Night-Fiend's expression darkened.

"You're welcome to your opinion," the thief whispered, "but I choose to stay right where I am."

"Choose not the difficult path, weak one," he growled. "You will come with me regardless."

"To me!" Mook exclaimed, backing up and drawing her daggers. "Treachery is afoot!"

Jayda and her friends jumped from their hiding places and gathered around Mook defensively. The Night-Fiend grunted and raised his arms, silently summoning his allies from the fog. Two more Night-Fiends joined him.

"These dregs cannot help you," he gurgled, his voice sinister and hungry. "Their death as written in the stars shall be fulfilled tonight!"

He opened his mouth wide, revealing fangs, and raced forward. Before they had a chance to react, he bore down on Mook and bit her neck, slurping up the fountain of blood that gushed out of her throat. Jayda and her friends shrank back in horror as the nature of the Night-Fiends was finally revealed.

Vampires.

When the head Night-Fiend lifted his head and Jayda saw the blood pouring down his chin, she immediately swung her sword and sliced deep into his arm. He growled, seemingly unaffected, and chaos erupted. The small dock had been a trap, cornering Jayda and her friends into a tiny space with an enemy they did not understand and could barely injure.

A flash of fire erupted in the back, catching one of the vampires off-guard. His left side was singed black and he hissed angrily, turning his attention to the mages. As he lunged to attack them, Jaheira intercepted him, bashing his head in with her quarterstaff. The vampire swung back to fight her, growling, but she was not intimidated. They squared off, the vampire flashing his claws and Jaheira parrying and attacking with her staff. Each placed a fair number of wounds to the other, but neither quit the match.

Minsc had taken the second vampire while Lilarcor encouraged each swing with declarations to hack and slash the creature's limbs away. The ranger was too sturdy for finesse but the vampire held strength to rival his. There was more punching than sword swinging, and both fighters wound up pushing the other around the small space more than they did trading injuries.

The biggest problem was that both vampires made enough progress past their opponents to threaten Aerie and Edwin, who were too busy diving out of the way and ducking swings to cast any spells. Minsc and Jaheira played constant catch-up trying to block their enemies and reengage the duels.

Jayda, however, was deadlocked against the bloody Night-Fiend, and she wasn't sure she was winning. Every slice she made seemed not to harm him. But so far, two of his many attacks had landed flesh and she could feel the warm blood spreading inside one bracer and one boot.

His claws scraped off her chest-piece again and she tucked her sword between his arm and ribcage, watching as he gracefully turned to avoid the plunge. She ripped her dagger across his shoulder-blade, causing him to hiss and spin back around, arm sweeping wide to smack her in the head. She leaned back, having to shuffle away from him to maintain balance, and cursed in frustration as she was once again put on the offensive.

As the battle quickly began dissolving into what looked to be a defeat, a sudden cry surprised them all. Anomen leapt from the top of the stairs, bringing his mace down in a crushing blow to Jaheira's opponent's head, creating a sickening crunch. The vampire stumbled around, face warped and gory, in surprise. The other two vampires turned to Helm's priest in newly directed rage, but Anomen was ready for them.

He braced his shield and met them with his own charge. Every swing compacted the vampires' bodies, disabling them in some way. Jayda and her friends rejoined the fray, doing all they could to assist him. Behind them, Aerie closed her eyes and began mumbling a spell, fingers moving in fluid motions. Orange lights began dancing around her, slowly at first and then spinning in rapid flurry. When she threw her arms wide, the lights rushed forward.

A sudden burst of light appeared on the horizon, momentarily washing the Docks in the orange glow of a sunrise. The vampires shrieked and hissed, and then two of them fell to their knees. Their skin burned as if on fire and they dissipated into ash. Mist clouds rose from their scattered ashes and raced into the fog.

The dawn settled and the leader of the Night-Fiends was kneeling on the wooden boards, heaving and gasping with charred skin as black as night, bubbled over and flaking away.

"Damn thy soul," he growled, choking on his own tongue. "I'm… not… finished with yo—!"

Anomen cried out and brought his mace down on the vampire's head. The creature burst into ash and another cloud evaporated into the fog. The group stood still, panting, wounded, and wondering what in the Nine Hells had just happened to them.

"V-vampires?" Aerie stammered. "That's who the rival guild is? These terrifying, undead creatures?"

"It would seem so," Edwin mumbled.

"This is bad," Jaheira whispered to Jayda. "I've no doubt your Shadowmaster knew of this before he sent us here. We barely held our own against three. He bids us dispatch a whole guild?"

"I know," she replied quietly. "Get Aerie to help you with these…" She pointed to the cuts and gashes on Jaheira's arms and side.

Anomen slowly approached, looking a little like a bashful boy wanting to apologize to his mother and mostly like a man confident in his confusion.

"Jayda," he began softly, "I was wrong to shun you. I was unbecoming as ever a knight was… I still feel so helpless, but… surely Saerk will pay, eventually, for what he has done. And though nothing can take away this burning pain in my heart… I have the strength and will to stand by you. I—"

But before he could finish, the rustle of the city guard entering the area interrupted him. Jayda quickly led her party away from dock three and skirted them around the Southside, bypassing the confrontation with the Amnish sentries.

A figure suddenly came out of the darkness, grabbing Jayda by her arm. She bit her lip, stifling a scream as the fingers mashed into the slice on her arm. She brought her short sword up to the person's throat as he whipped her around and out of the road. They backed themselves into torchlight.

"Gaelan!" she hissed, overjoyed and terrified at the same time; she pulled her sword away, afraid by what she'd almost done.

He put his finger to his lips and glanced back into shadows. After a moment he brought his gaze back to her and she knew invisible allies were hidden around them.

"What happened?" he asked. "Word of the deed spread and by the time I knew where it was I could be findin' ye, it was late. We saw the guard headin' for the dockyard, an' a little squeak by the name of Tuss says he heard a commotion down there."

"Gaelan… The Night-Fiends are vampires," she told him and watched his face tighten in dread. "They tried to recruit Mook. We defended her but… she didn't make it."

"Damn," he cursed.

"We got them," she assured him. "I admit we weren't prepared but… after a few cuts and bruises, I think we figured it out. Next time… we'll have some surprises for them."

"Cuts and bruises?" he echoed, frowning. "Ye alright?" He tugged her closer to investigate and realized how slippery his fingers were. When he withdrew his hand, he saw the blood, and snatched her arm back, twisting back her armor and tunic to the deep gash on her bicep.

"I'm okay."

"The Nine Hells ye are," he muttered, tipping her face up by the chin to examine the cut on her brow. "Damn it…"

Gaelan motioned and several thieves slipped out of the shadows, creating a perimeter per his instructions to protect the troupe so that they could safely make it back. They took a moment for Aerie to continue to help heal Jaheira's greater wounds and, while they waited, Gaelan remained close to Jayda.

"I won't let anythin' happen to ye," he told her as his men spread out and moved to conceal themselves.

"No?"

"No," he promised then smiled, but it was strained. "I'm ye handler… after all."

"Thank you for coming for me," she whispered.

Suddenly Anomen was upon them, his brow knit tightly together and eyes hard with devotion and jealousy.

"My lady," he began firmly. "I did not get to finish what I was saying before, so I'll say it now. I disappointed you before. I let you down when I should have been by your side. But I swear in Helm's vigilant name, I will protect you. I failed my sister… but I won't fail another woman I love."

Jayda inhaled a deep breath, not surprised by but not expecting Anomen's confession. She felt a sickening feeling sinking in her stomach, wondering how she could have let such a feeling be entertained to this point, wondering how she could let him down after the shock of losing his sister.

"Ye swear a lot of oaths, knightling," Gaelan said. "Ye might could fulfill a few before ye go swearin' more."

"Be silent, cur," Anomen snapped. "I need no thief lecturing me on honor and commitment. My words were for the lady."

"Aye, the lady, and _my_ lady."

"Your _client_, nothing more," Anomen corrected him. "Do not overstep your boundaries, handler."

"Too late for that, knightling," Gaelan whispered then smiled but there was no amusement in his eyes, only disdain. "I may be her handler, but I handle more than her gold…"

The uncomfortable silence that fell between the trio seemed to reverberate more loudly than the commotion at the dockyard. While Jayda felt a prick of happiness that Gaelan had spoken for her, she felt sad for Anomen and the slow realization that crept into his expression. She shut her eyes tight and took deep, calming breaths.

Her adrenaline slowly subsided and the pain in her arm brought her survival instinct to the surface. In the back of her mind, she heard faint screams, then a voice she recognized: Irenicus. _Hello, little one,_ he whispered. _We have a great deal to do._ A bloom of fear momentarily overwhelmed her and a cool sensation raced through her veins. _No…_ Imoen sobbed. _No, please…_

"I don't care," Anomen said, ripping her from her thoughts. She looked up and found her thief and knightling squaring off. "You sully her good name with your base intentions and immoral tongue. I will have your head for this."

"Whenever ye like, boy, pick an alley," Gaelan retorted.

"That's enough, both of you," she barked harshly, anger quickly rising. "This is not the time or place. If you want to duel to the death in the streets for the guards to find, fine, but don't expect my sympathy when the Radiant Heart and Shadow Thieves leave your daft asses in cells for the embarrassment."

When she turned to go, she glimpsed their frowns and the reflections in their eyes. Hers were glowing brightly. Jayda sighed, unable to stifle the power she felt churning just under her skin.

"This isn't over," Anomen promised Gaelan. "And when we next meet, this matter will be settled."

"Aye," Gaelan agreed. "It will."


	17. Coming to a Head

**Coming to a Head**

It was obvious that Jayda was in a foul mood the moment Aran Linvail laid eyes on her. His agitation was plain on his face but the way his creased brow shifted from angry to cautious let her know he understood she was not to be messed with.

He wore his night clothes and, judging from his tired eyes, he'd been woken from slumber. Part of her was pleased that his rest had been interrupted; she had been up all night dealing with a mourning knightling, a mad cleric of Cyric, vampires, and jealous men. She was tired, injured, and pissed off.

"What have you to report?" he asked.

"It went as you expected," she began, "though I regret to report that Mook was murdered."

Aran sighed and rubbed his brow.

"That is… unfortunate," he mumbled honestly. "She was a friend. I had hoped your support would prevent any deaths. Too many of my people have been killed or gone missing recently…"

Jayda sensed his genuine loss and felt an ounce of respect for the man. It was clear he cared about his thieves more than was expected. She admired that.

"I had hoped that, too," she replied sincerely.

"What happened exactly?" he asked as he crossed to a table, withdrew some bandages and a bottle of clear liquid from a drawer, and motioned her over. When she was before him, he ripped her sleeve and tore it away from the gash on her arm. Then he dipped a cloth in a water bowl and gently washed the blood away as they talked.

"The Night-Fiends came. They seemed to know her, though she did not know them. They tried to recruit her and she resisted, so they attacked."

Aran nodded. "This proves what I feared: this rival guild knows our actions well—likely due to the traitors that joined them. We must stop any more from leaving us. While you were gone, my spies sent word that two of our men, Jaylos and Caehan by name, are planning to leave our little community and join with our rivals." He waved his hand and mumbled, "Greener grass and all of that, I suppose."

"You're going to kill them?" she guessed as he wet a clean cloth with the clear potion and rubbed it on her arm.

"I am… going to kill them, yes," he said, then traded his cloth for the bandages and began wrapping her arm. "But I'm hoping to catch the recruiter first."

"Let me."

He raised his brows. "Volunteering now, are we?" he asked, amused. She stepped closer to him, narrowing her gaze.

"I don't have time to waste guarding shipments and waiting for spies. I need to find Imoen if it isn't too late already. If the only way for me to do that is kill these rivals, then I will wash the streets of Athkatla in their blood, and I would do it now. Give me the job and I will wrench the information from their throats."

Aran stared into her eyes, a grin on his lips as he looked from one to the other.

"Ah, but Mae'Var was a fool to resist so long," he whispered and there was desire in his voice. "And now I fear I understand it." Aran tied off the bandage. "Jaylos and Caehan are to meet their contact at the Five Flagons tomorrow night. You know the place, yes?"

"I know it," Jayda answered.

"Good. Happy hunting." And then he turned to go back to bed. Before he could crawl in, she stopped him.

"Tell me one thing, Shadowmaster, and tell me honestly."

"I like to think all of our proceedings have been honest," he mumbled, throwing back his comforter and sheets.

"Did you know the nature of the rival guild?" she asked and he froze. "Did you know the Night-Fiends were vampires?"

The look she received at the news answered her question. His distressed surprise told her he was just as shocked to hear it as she had been to discover it.

"Vampires," he echoed.

Jayda shrugged and headed for the door. "That's all I wanted to know. Goodnight, Shadowmaster." She glanced over her shoulder. "Sweet dreams."

/

Gaelan stood at his bedroom window and stared at the night sky, fingers tapping nervously on the sill, wondering whether or not she would come to him. He couldn't believe he'd done what he did: openly laying claim to her like that, revealing it to Anomen, to everyone. He'd acted like such a child bantering with the squire-fool, but when he heard him all but profess his love, something inside of him snapped.

Her scolding had made him feel like the idiot he had been acting, but even after calming down and reconsidering all that had happened, he still felt agitated by Anomen's declaration. What baffled and angered him the most was the reason it bothered him so much. There could only be one reason.

"No," Gaelan said out loud. "Don't say it, don't even think it."

"Think what?" Arledrian asked from across the room. Gaelan shook his head.

"Nothin'."

"Fair. I'm out for rounds. I'll be back tomorrow."

Gaelan nodded and gave a half-arsed wave without even turning his head to look at his friend. He was too lost in his own thoughts. If he did truly… lo—… like her a whole lot, he was in bigger trouble than he thought. He knew she had some feelings for him, be it friendship or just as one would feel toward a lover that they regarded fondly. But he did not know how she felt about Anomen. Did she love him back? He knew she cared about his well-being a great deal; he knew she wanted to protect him. How could she not love him? He was a handsome, soon-to-be knight that fawned over her.

Hells, Gaelan realized, the boy was probably still a virgin. A virgin knightling was following her every footstep into whatever danger they encountered, fighting bravely and persistently by her side. He was always by her side, always capable of being by her side. It killed Gaelan to know it.

Which looped his thoughts back around to the scariest part of all of it: she was in more danger than before. Vampires. She was fighting vampires. For the Shadow Thieves. He punched the window sill and swallowed his grunt. Aran would send her into the Night-Fiends' nest and there was a very good chance she would not come out alive.

If she did come out alive? She would be on the next ship out of Amn. He sighed. He didn't have the time to sort his feelings out, to figure out what he should do—what he was even capable of doing. While he floundered in shallow water trying to figure out if diving back in the deep end or flopping onto the shore would be a better next step, he was still trying to decide if the deep end was running away from her or chasing after her.

He loved the Shadow Thieves, and he was loyal to them. They were all he had ever known. He didn't have a desire to go stomping across the countryside on adventures. He liked the life he had now. But he also liked her. He liked her enough that there was a tight feeling in his chest and a squirming nausea in his gut whenever he thought about how this was going to end.

Footsteps on the stairs perked his ear and he lowered his head, knowing it could only be one person: Jayda. He waited for her to come, waited for her to say something. She stopped behind him and stared at his back for a beat too long, provoking his nervousness even more.

"Are you really going to fight him?" she finally asked.

Gaelan sighed. Of course it was about Anomen. He should have known it would have been.

"Aye, ye afraid I might hurt him?" he asked, twisting at the waist to eye her.

"I know you will," she replied. "You're fast—faster than me—and you would have no problem beating him. Don't do this. Not over me."

"I didn't," he reminded her. "He did."

"You don't have to fight him—"

"Oh, and ye think that'll matter to him?"

"I'll talk to him, too—"

"People do what they wanna do, Jayda! There be some things ye can't control! Get used to it!"

"There's nothing I can control!" she shot back. "Only things I hope to influence before they descend into madness like everything else around me!"

"Then stop bein' a Bhaalspawn!"

Jayda paused, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Her brow was dipped with confusion.

"What?" she finally asked.

"Quit bein' a Bhaalspawn and just be Jayda, Shadow Thief," he said quietly. He watched her eyes momentarily light up and then fade, as though she saw the butterfly of her dream dance before her eyes and, too stunned by its beauty to reach out and grab it, watched it flutter away.

"I can't do that," she whispered, and her sad tone reflected the sorrow in her gaze. "Imoen is counting on me."

Gaelan nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared at the floor. After a beat, Jayda turned to leave, but his next words caught her at the top of the stairs.

"Let him go," he said. "Leave him behind."

"You mean Anomen," she said without turning around. "I can't do that. What he does with his life is his choice."

"Like it was his choice to take revenge for his sister's murder or not?" Gaelan asked. "Ye like him. Ye like his innocence, his purity, his sense of goodness. Fine. But ye take him with ye, and ye know that'll change. If he don't get himself killed, he'll be hounded by the same demons chasin' ye and ye friends. Ye think he believes in justice now? What'll he believe in after the godblood gets through with him?"

Jayda suddenly turned to look at him so he lifted his head and met her eyes. He inwardly flinched at how red they were, how glassy with tears. He instantly felt guilty for saying it; it was true, of course, but his motivations were selfish.

"Are you saying this for him or for you?"

"It don't matter why I be sayin' it, ye know it be true."

He saw her swallow, lashes twitching not to blink, not to push out any tears. She looked away, to a random spot on the wall until she felt composed enough to speak again.

"You claim me, Gaelan," she said, but it was almost a question.

"And what if I do?" he snapped. "The boy need be a man before he goes around swearin' his love when he ain't yet swore at his trials, when all he knows about how to treat a woman be what he read in his idealized books. Aye, I claim ye, a stain on ye honor."

"You know I don't think of you that way," she said as she drew closer, and, even though he already knew it was true, he was happy to hear her confirm it. "If anything, it's probably true in the reverse."

He frowned. "Ye don't mean…"

"Come on. Anomen doesn't understand, but I do. Loyalty, commitment, honor… maybe a Shadow Thief doesn't keep morals the same way the rest of society does, but you keep them all the same. But a Bhaalspawn… there the rules bend and break regardless of intentions and actions, uglier than the moral code of a thief… Besides, a tough guy like you," and she managed a playful smile, "frustrated over a silly girl like me… must do horrible things to your honor…"

Gaelan wrapped his arm around the back of her head and pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly. He pressed his cheek to her hair. He didn't really believe that, but he knew she did. A true thief knew that what was right and wrong, true or false did not matter; the only thing that mattered was what someone believed to be true and what you could convince them was true.

"The thing about delinquents is… we're all villains in the eyes of society. Thief and liar and murderer and Bhaalspawn."

Gaelan bent and kissed her mouth. He wanted to say that he considered her his equal, that she could never be a stain on his honor—if he could ever be guilty of having any—or any other scar in his life. But he didn't have the words, so he hoped she got the message. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him deeper into her mouth, he knew it had gotten through.

"Gaelan," she whispered against his lips. "I killed a man today. I lost control. He was just a crazy, old man, but he invoked the name of the Prince of Lies, traitor to my dark father, and I… I snapped. I lost control—Bhaal's blood overcame me." Her distressed expression gave away just how troubled she was. "I don't even regret it…"

"Aye," he whispered, "s'happened to me before, too. Very recently, in fact. Some loose-mouth thieflin' from Talon's house was makin' some very disagreeable comments about ye and me. After politely tellin' him to shut it, I had to take action."

"You… killed him?"

"I don't think so. No one's said anything about havin' to replace a young thief, but… he wasn't doin' well, last I saw him… lyin' on the floor bleedin' out of his face and chest." He reached up and gently tucked some flyaway red strands behind her ear, enjoying her blush and the smile that said: I can't believe you did that. "People lose control," he told her. "We get angry and we snap. I don't see why it makes ye any different."

"It's not that I did it. It's why I did it."

"Bhaal's blood," he said, and she nodded. "Ye know why I did it? Bad temper," he confessed and she smiled again. "And a bit 'cause I like ye well enough."

"Well enough?"

"Yeah, well enough. Bit high maintenance for a client, but definitely the most fun, the most interestin'… the most beautiful…" He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Point is, me temper's a part of me, sure as me head or me hand, just like ye blood's a part of you."

"But I don't kill innocent people in the streets because they invoke a god. Bhaal… that's not who I am," she insisted.

"It'n it?"

There was a long silence as she considered his words, staring up at him with her stone-gray eyes. She seemed to grow more upset by the second.

"Is it?" she asked, uncertain. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and drew her into his mouth.

"It's not a thing ye should be afraid of, Jayda… Ye shouldn't be afraid of who ye are."

"I'm afraid of what I'll become," she mumbled between kisses. "I'm afraid of what I'll do…"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, scooping her up so that she wrapped her legs around his hips. He sat her on the window sill and kissed her.

"Ye shouldn't be afraid of that… I'm not," he told her breathily, kissing along her jaw and neck.

"You should be," she replied, voice shaky with pleasure, fear—he wasn't sure which; maybe both. "Even Jaheira and Minsc are."

"Well maybe they don't know ye like I do," he said, grinning against her throat. He paused and looked up at her. "I hope not, at least. Maybe the druid; I can appreciate forbidden indulgence. But the rodent-lovin' ranger… tell me he don't know ye like I do."

She shook her head, ignoring his jokes.

"Maybe you just don't know me well enough."

Her words reaching his ears felt like a spike hammered into a board; it was hard, painful, quick, jarring, stuck. He frowned, looking from one gray eye to the other; he could trace the amber lines and flecks near her iris and wondered when they had appeared, why they had remained.

"Gaelan," she whispered, "Alaundo prophesied this would happen. It is my fate—"

He suddenly gripped her jaw, forcing her attention on him and only him.

"Only birth and death are destiny," he told her. "All else be choice and consequence."

She suddenly tightened her arms and legs around him, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back and then leaned out far enough to kiss her. The passion sparked between them immediately ignited, so he carried her to the bed and stripped her of her armor and clothes. When he spied the bandage on her arm, he recalled earlier that night still on the Docks when he had tried to bandage her and Anomen had decided to use his priest-like talents to try to heal her. She had refused both of their help with prejudice, claiming that she had survived worse without children to coddle her. She then tied up her own leg and stormed off.

He ran his fingers over the gauze, recognizing Aran's knot at the top. _Good_, he decided. He wouldn't have wanted it to be Anomen. His own jealousy infuriated him, made him feel lesser, and she had every right to be angry with him for it. But he couldn't dispense of it.

He pulled off his clothes and made love to her until her exhaustion was apparent on her face. When they were lying on the bed, intertwined in one another's arms, and the only sound was that of their breathing... he decided to ask something he had wanted to know since their first night together.

"How did you get this?" he asked, letting his fingertips trace the vicious looking mark that cut across her hip and hooked up into her stomach.

"My brother, Sarevok," she replied, hand covering his, "gave me this scar when he tried to kill me."

"Your brother?" he echoed.

"Yes… another of Bhaal's children. 'Hand over your ward,' he said." Her eyes became glassy as she remembered. "But Gorion wouldn't. There was no hesitation, only defiance. 'You know why I'm here… Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt.' Gorion struck first and told me to run. But there were so many creatures I'd only seen in books. Ogres, bugbears, beastmasters from the north… And then there was the armored man himself… tall, with terrifying armor—all black and sharp—and he intercepted me before I could get away."

Jayda touched her scar and closed her eyes.

"He carried a very peculiar scythe that he drew just for me. He didn't count on my speed and so his slice was only life-threatening, not fatal." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It was horribly painful. Sometimes I still feel it… the hook ripping at my skin."

"What happened?"

"Gorion intervened and I managed to disappear into the darkness. I was good at that… And in the shadows, I lay, unable to move anymore… but I wish I had. I wish I had!" Tears slipped out of the corner of her eyes. "Gorion fought hard, but Sarevok was too powerful." Her eyes widened and trembled as though she was witnessing the horror all over again. "His sword… through his chest… his face… warped… growling… pained… He fell… made these awful sounds… choking, dying, defying Sarevok even then—" She choked on her pain, sobbing. "Gorion!"

Gaelan rolled on top of her, supporting himself with a hand on either side of her head.

"Look at me," he hissed. "Look only at me. Think only of me."

He waited there until her eyes returned to normal and the tears stopped. She took deep breaths to calm herself and he gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"I killed him…" she said. "I killed my brother. He had destroyed so many lives, set fires along the Sword Coast, burned and killed… And I hunted him; I fought him until he ran away from me. I killed him, but not for all that he had done or who he was… I killed him for what he had done to Gorion. I sent his soul back to Bhaal for taking away from me my father… my friend… my only family. I killed him for killing Gorion! For making me watch! For making me like _him_!"

"But ye aren't like him—"

"No?" she cried, suddenly sitting up. "Hundreds of people are dead because of me! Khalid and Dynaheir are dead because of _me_! Imoen is the victim of a mad wizard—hostage of a mage baiting me, who wants my power, my inheritance! And I will kill him for it and many will die because of it! Tell me how I am not like Sarevok!"

"The difference is why," he said quietly, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek.

"Why?" she asked numbly, her voice raspy. "_Why_? What does 'why' matter when there is still a trail of corpses to follow. Tell the families who lost their loved ones why… and then ask them if they care."

Gaelan wasn't sure what to say, so he hugged her and pulled them back down onto the bed. She clung to him and cried herself to sleep.

/

"Let me get this straight," Haer'dalis said as he removed his make-up from that night's performance. He sat in front of his dressing table in the basement of the Five Flagons while Jayda loomed behind him. "You want me to go upstairs, pretend I'm a traitorous Shadow Thief recruit for the rival guild, pull as much information out of the other two deserters as I can before the guild contact shows up—putting myself in imminent danger, I might add—and talk the location of their hidden base out of him without giving myself away."

"Simple, right?" she said. He grinned.

"Raven," he murmured. "I am a child of Oghma and Milil's very breath. This will be a walk in the park."

"See…" she mumbled with a smirk, "I knew you were the right tiefling for the job."

"Yes, and you can't do this why?"

"Well, they'd recognize me. I'm not much of an actor, and after all this running around with the Shadow Thieves I've done… Besides, why chance my luck when I have such a renowned actor to take my place?"

"A fair point."

Within twenty minutes, Haer'dalis had caked enough make-up on his face to hide his marks and appear a normal, albeit scarred, human being. He pulled on the garb of a thief-in-hiding and yanked the hood over his eyes. They went up to the main floor and Haer'dalis charmed the room number of the defectors out of the barkeep. Upstairs, they secured the room across from the meeting room where Aerie cast a listening spell on Haer'dalis. Then, they sent him into the meeting.

Haer'dalis opened the door and nervously peeked inside.

"Who are you?" a short, gruff man exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and drawing a sheath knife. "Damn, I knew we'd be followed!"

"Ease up, Jaylos," the other man said, standing too. He was tall and skinny and, by powers of deduction, Haer'dalis knew he must be Caehan. "Maybe they is just here for the same reason we are. Lots were talking about making the switch."

"Could be, I suppose…" Jaylos mumbled. "You there!" He pointed his knife at Haer'dalis, who jumped nervously in response. "What are you doing here? Speak, and be quick about it!"

"You… you here to meet with the contact, too?" he asked, looking around behind him to make sure no other voices were in listening range. He slipped inside and closed the door, sighing with relief. "Gods, I was worried you were here to kill me."

"You, too?" Caehan asked, looking relieved. "I thought we'd be—"

"Keep your voices down!" Jaylos snapped, sheathing his knife and dropping back into his chair. It was clear from the sweat on his brow that he, too, was nervous. "Cripes, you'd think the whole guild was going. We've just got to sit and wait then. You keep your mouths shut and stay still, understand?"

"Sorry, Jaylos," the skinny one said, promptly sitting. "I was just glad to see someone else doing the same thing."

"Stop using my name, damn it!" the short one growled, jumping to his feet in agitation. "Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. We'll just have to see." He turned a suspicious eye on Haer'dalis, who mentally groaned at how stupid the pair was. "All right, friend, just who is it you think we are going to meet?"

Haer'dalis responded by frowning and shrinking back, looking the tiny, rough man up and down with an unsure glare.

"Why? Don't you know?" he asked in his best paranoid voice. "You trying to pry information outta me? You a spy? Huh?"

The energy level suddenly shot up as the tension increased with panic.

"What?" Jaylos exclaimed, frightened to be considered such. "No… no, I know it! I ain't no spy! Shut up or they'll just kill us instead of taking us!"

"Aw geez, they think we're spies," Caehan groaned, falling to pieces. "We're gonna die!"

Haer'dalis nodded vigorously and pointed to Jaylos.

"You should listen to your pal, friend. You're in big trouble. The guild don't take spies!"

"Oh, you _are_ funny. Think we'll just lay down and die, huh?" he boomed. "We're getting out and we're doing it while the getting is good!"

Jaylos drew his knife again and Caehan promptly pulled his sword.

"Kill 'em before Gracen gets here," the skinny one shouted, "or they'll never take us!"

"Caehan, you're such an idiot!" Jaylos groaned, and the two lunged for Haer'dalis.

The bard whipped a dagger out of his cloak and tossed it at the skinny one's shoulder. Caehan squeaked as the blade sunk fast into his chest, catching the end of his collarbone. In the same step, the bard jumped onto the table and pulled his sword Entropy, gracefully jumping over the clumsy swing of the knife and slicing Jaylos on the shoulder.

Haer'dalis flipped off of the table and landed behind the short thief, spearing him from behind. Jaylos lurched forward in shock, giving the tiefling room to kick his arm and knock the knife up into the air. Haer'dalis caught it with his free hand, drew it across the man's throat, and then ducked just in time to avoid the blade Caehan tossed at him. Haer'dalis rolled down the room and popped up at the other end of the table, loosed the sheath knife, and watched the skinny man slump to the ground, blade between his eyes.

"What is the meaning of this?" a man boomed from the door. "What is going on here?"

Haer'dalis took only a second to check over the man's attire and features, noting the shine in his armor. He was official-looking, well-groomed, and had gaunt features.

"Nothing, Gracen," Haer'dalis replied, "just some spies that had to be dealt with before we could meet."

"I see," he mumbled, examining the corpses with disdain. "Well, a necessary commotion then, though we should not wait here long. Your new berth awaits, thief."

"_Ex_-thief, if you don't mind," he corrected him. "And where are we going? The thieves have eyes and ears everywhere…"

Gracen smiled. "Beneath the Graveyard District," he replied rather smugly, "behind the blue stone doors. No thief can follow us there. You need not worry."

"Ah," Haer'dalis said with a smile, watching as Jayda snuck up behind the contact. "My thanks, friend. That's all we needed to know."

"We?" Gracen echoed, frowning.

Suddenly, there was a knife at his throat and his eyes widened in fear. Jayda's lips hovered near his ear.

"The Shadow Thieves send their regards," she whispered, and pulled the blade. A fountain of red shot out from his neck and he gurgled then collapsed. She whipped a rag from her belt and wiped the dagger clean. "Thank you, Haer'dalis," she said. "You were perfect."

"Anything for you, my raven." He smiled. "Tell me… what is all of this about?"

"I have to rescue my sister, Imoen, and already it may be too late to save her. The Shadow Thieves are my only ticket to where she's being kept and, in return, they want their rivals removed."

"The other guild," he guessed and she nodded. "And just who are these rivals, my raven?"

"Vampires."

He closed his eyes and took a deep, silent breath. They had seen little of each other since her timely rescue, but he had not forgotten their chat on the roof of the Copper Coronet. Her plight had stuck with him, her turmoil buried deep in his heart. He felt compelled to help her, but as long as she remained in Athkatla and had others to walk with her, he saw no reason to forego his responsibilities to the troupe. Now, however, he understood just how much trouble she was in and how liable she was to descend into more trouble.

The tribulation of the Bhaalspawn: it fascinated him and, curiously enough, would be the title for the song he would write of her. But now the effects felt more real. They were no longer celebrating in a tavern, drinking and singing and dancing while the problems lurked beyond sunrise. They were no longer beneath a full moon, speaking poetically of haunting godblood. She had put him in a real situation to gather information that she would use to infiltrate and annihilate a nest of vampires.

All of this was to rescue her sister. All of this was somehow part of something bigger, some greater and bleak destiny wrought by the tainted blood in her veins. Now, it was very real to him.

"That is a dangerous game you play," he told her, frowning.

"I know. But it's the only way."

/

When Aran's door was opened to her, Jayda found the dining table set for two. She inched into the room, wondering what she might be interrupting, and the door closed behind her. She frowned at the Shadowmaster.

"Please, sit," he said, motioning to the chair opposite his.

"Is this a joke to you, Linvail?"

"Quite the opposite. Now sit." And he sat.

Jayda sighed and unbelted her weapons, dropped them near the table, and took her assigned chair. Aran motioned to the platters in front of them—the smoked pheasant and roasted chicken and grilled salmon, the mixed greens and stuffed mushrooms, the potato soup, and several fluffy loaves of bread. She picked off a few pieces of pheasant and chicken, scooped some vegetables on her plate, dipped a small bowl of soup, and broke a piece of bread in half.

Satisfied with her selections, Aran lifted a bottle of wine and showed it to her. She shrugged so he got up and poured her a glass. When he sat down again, he portioned his own plate and then began eating.

"What are you playing at, Linvail?" she finally asked.

"Nothing."

"What is this then?"

"Isn't it obvious? We're having dinner." He sipped his wine. "Am I blind or obtuse that I wouldn't enjoy such a pleasantry with a beautiful, remarkable woman?"

Her silverware clattered on the plate.

"I have no interest in entertaining kind of relationship with you."

"No," he agreed, "and I'm afraid Tassa would assassinate me in my sleep if I had that desire myself. But while we are working together, I see no reason not to enjoy a simple dinner."

"I see reason."

"Don't worry." He smiled and took a bite of salmon. "I have no intention of stealing you away from Gaelan's grasp. What have you to report of Jaylos and Caehan?"

She shrugged and picked up her silverware again, cutting a piece of pheasant and stuffing it into her mouth.

"The contact and your defectors are dead," she told him around a wad of meat. "Before I bled the bastard, he told us the location of their hideaway. They've made their lair within the crypts below the Graveyard District."

"From what we have seen of their dark nature, I am not surprised," Aran remarked. "The crypts are a vast network of tombs, however. Do you have any idea where in the crypts they're located?"

"Behind a pair of blue doors, 'where no thief could follow'. Any idea what that means?"

"We mapped the crypts, but we saw little use for them. The blue doors referenced must be the sealed tomb of an ancient lord just north of a spider den home to a dark woman called Pai'Na. We have a mutual agreement not to… interfere with one another." He took another bite of food and waited until he had swallowed before continuing. "The doors are too heavy for any mortal to open, but the vampires likely pass with ease."

"I assume you have some plan other than me banging my head against it?" she asked. He smiled.

"I shall send my mage to meet you there and arrange for the doors to be opened." Aran cleared his throat and motioned to the door.

Jayda twisted around as it opened and saw Edwin stroll in. She narrowed her gaze on him and then turned a glare on Aran.

"Yes, he is one of mine," the Shadowmaster explained. "When I learned that you and he had history and that Renal planned to use our new outsider to infiltrate the traitor's house, I installed him into Mae'Var's guild. Edwin would have the perfect opportunity to… well, I think you follow from there. I apologize for the deception."

Jayda flicked her gaze to Edwin who wore a smug expression.

"What are you grinning for?" she asked him. "You're going with me into Bodhi's nest."

The grin disappeared. Aran waved Edwin away and the door closed again.

"That was low, Linvail," she growled, "sending one of your lackeys into my service."

"And what harm was truly done?" he asked. "Edwin has reported nothing I could not easily have discovered by other means. He has helped you in many of your tasks and, I assure you, his motivation was not entirely obligatory. There was some benevolence as well."

"Benevolence?" she echoed with disbelief.

"As much as he is capable of, yes," Aran replied seriously. "Besides, what do you think Gaelan is? A chance ally? He came to you because I bade him to. And what harm was done? You both found some… comfort and pleasure in one another, and now you are here, with me, two steps closer to finding your lost friend and deranged wizard. I have done everything requested of me… including overlooking Gaelan's professional offense."

Her jaw clenched as he picked at her affections, attempting to make her feel naïve and childish. The truth was that he was right, regardless of how much she didn't like it. She swallowed her pride and forked another bite of stuffed mushroom.

"It is fortunate you learned the nature of our rivals. I have had weapons crafted against them. How many vampires do you believe are we against?"

"We?" she echoed bitterly. "Several, at least, and Bodhi herself is no doubt a vampire, but three less than before."

"Unfortunately my researchers have discovered vampires can only be permanently destroyed with a stake to their heart, hence the precautions. I have a supply of stakes ready for you." He took a sip of his wine and then folded his fingers together. "The time has come to strike back to protect our people, and the city that has been invaded. Annihilate Bodhi and her guild, and when their evil is destroyed and you have returned… I will fulfill our bargain."

Jayda noticed the flicker in his expression, that pulse of truth that told her he truly believed in what he was saying. Even if every word Aran had said had been a well-practiced payout, this she believed: that he wanted to protect his men and Athkatla. He may steal from them, assassinate a few here and there, threaten and extort… but he would not tolerate meaningless and unchecked slaughter of the people of Athkatla.

At least he was a man who understood exactly where he drew the line in his morality. She could get behind that.

"What say you?" Aran asked her and she met his gaze. Jayda stood up.

"See you at sunrise."

As she crossed to the door, Aran motioned to the table.

"Dessert?" he asked.

"Aye," she replied as she opened the door, "Bodhi's heart."

And she left. Up on the empty main floor, she nearly collided with Renal Bloodscalp. He stepped out of the shadows as she headed for the door, intercepting her footsteps. He stared seriously into her eyes before stepping to the side, hooking an arm across her chest and gently taking hold of her shoulder. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"You carry all of our fates, Bhaalspawn. There are many, the Shadowmaster included, who regard you as an all-powerful machination of murder. There are others… like Gaelan… who still see you as human. Gaelan has long-since been my friend and I trust his judgment." His words were mumbled so quietly, his lips were pressed against her ear so that she could even hear him. "Aran has sent stakes to your room at the Coronet. I will send a contingent of Thieves to assist you. Give me a location and they will be there."

She leaned back to look into his eyes, measuring his sincerity. She saw only honest and serious conviction in his gaze. So she nodded.

"The crypts beneath the Graveyard District," she replied hushed, "blue doors north of Pai'Na's den."

Renal nodded that he understood.

"Are you doing this for Gaelan…?" she asked. He leaned in to whisper in her ear again.

"Make no mistake that we all believe in your ability to see this through, Jayda, and that the outcome matters to us all… but to some of us… it matters more."

Renal withdrew his arm and walked on.


	18. The Fall of the Rival Guild

**The Fall of the Rival Guild**

"_I was thinkin'," Gaelan began. "I should be goin' with ye."_

"_No," Jayda replied. "Don't."_

The Harping Druid marched on her left and the Rasheman Ranger on her right. Behind them walked the wingless Avariel Mage-Priest and the Aspiring Knight of the Radiant Heart. A Tiefling Bard bravely followed his raven and a Thayvian Red Wizard brought up the rear.

Their leader was the Rogue Bhaalspawn.

"_And why not, ay?" he wanted to know._

"_I can handle this," she told him. "The others and I can handle this."_

As the blue doors came into view, so did the vampire who stalked Mook and two of his servants. They glowered, backs hunched and fingers poised like claws.

"Lassal," one of the others addressed their leader. "They come…"

"Fools!" Lassal boomed. "The mistress knew you would come! Tanova, Durst," he bade his fellows and they stepped closer to him. "Come then, come to your doom! Fight, and know you die for nothing!"

The three vampires growled and bent lower, ready to strike. The fighters under Jayda's command suddenly spread out, Jaheira and Anomen taking defensive positions around the mages. Haer'dalis and Minsc whipped out bows and notched arrows. In the back of their group, Aerie began uttering a spell.

The vampires charged suddenly, tearing raking claws through the group. They slashed and swung, finding nothing but air.

"A trick?" Tanova bellowed as the reflected images disappeared.

"Now!" Jayda cried, and from the mouth of the crypt, two arrows flew and struck home in the vampire's chests.

Anomen and Jaheira charged from darkness, laying crushing blow after blow upon them. Lassal howled and started toward Jayda, but she only smiled as he came for her.

"_Ye can handle it?" he balked in disbelief. "Then ye won't mind me taggin' along."_

"_Gaelan—"_

"_For additional support…"_

"_That won't be necessary."_

Jayda drew her sword and dagger and created a quick slice in the shape of an "X" at Lassal's throat then spun to the right. Aerie was waiting with a flash of a fireball to his face. Jayda shoved both her weapons into his side and withdrew, dancing beyond his reach. Haer'dalis intercepted Aerie, whisking her safely away to another part of the battle where she could aid someone else.

Behind them, Edwin murmured deep in concentration. Then, from the dust of the earth, a swirl of dirt and stone spiraled before him. It gathered, clumped, and took shape. A flesh golem was created from the grains of the soil, looming over the battle like the beast it was. Edwin held out his hand filled with magic powder and slowly blew, breathing life into his creation.

The golem creaked and stretched as it animated, taking two booming steps that momentarily captured the attention of the creatures beneath it.

"Go," Edwin whispered, "and open the doors."

The creature raced forward and, with a roar, began pounding the blue doors. The cavern trembled and debris rained from the ceiling. Lassal cried out in some unknown tongue, barking orders to his minions. They fled the field in their supernatural ways, and from their retreat came the dead, crawling out of decorative tombs that lined the walls. They were clad in armor, wielding swords, and grinning with full sets of pearly white teeth.

"Anomen!" Jayda yelled over the noise.

The Knight turned his hand, invoking the power of Helm, and released the power granted him back at several of the skeletons. The magic holding their bones dissipated and they fell into piles of bone and steel. As for the rest of them, the Shadow Thieves took over, spilling into the room and hacking away at their skeletal enemies.

The doors opened and they breached the inner sanctum, victorious.

Now, the real fight would begin.

"_Coo! Why does it need be necessary, ay?" Gaelan wanted to know, following her out of her room and onto the stairs to the Copper Coronet's main floor. "Tell me why it is ye don't want me to come."_

"_Gaelan, please."_

"_No, tell me why." He grabbed her arm and spun her back to face him._

As they stormed the inner sanctum, they were met with a large and golden banquet hall where dined the undead. The Shadow Thieves took point, organized as one fluid extension of her arm, and met the creatures in battle.

Tanova screamed in horror and anger as they fought. For every thief she cut down, another took his place. Soon, her creatures were all cut down and she was assailed with tiny pricks and slices. Though it did little to hurt her at first, the constant barrage wore her down.

"Owl!" Jayda cried, catching the attention of one of the thieves.

She tossed him a stake and he plunged it deep into Tanova's heart. She screeched and wailed then collapsed, dead. The first battle of the inner sanctum had been won, but at the cost of five Shadow Thieves.

Several corridors stretched before them, and each met another corridor to form a labyrinth of danger. Jayda and her companions dispersed into the corridors, finding them filled with fledgling vampires, and those… they _could_ harm and kill without stakes. They fought through several hallways and cleared several rooms until they found themselves in a strange chamber with a pool of blood and throw pillows lavished around it like some sort of brothel.

"You were fools to come here," Durst howled, frightened but with many fledglings and thralls at his back.

Haer'dalis struck first, firing two arrows in rapid succession at the approaching fiends. Jaheira rushed in and nailed a thrall in the head with her quarterstaff, striking him so hard that his head snapped back and nearly broke his neck. Minsc swooped in with Lilarcor brandished threateningly at Durst, and the sword yelled triumphantly.

Durst ducked under the ranger's swing and, instead, Lilarcor lopped the head off of a fledgling.

"Oo, throw a coin in that fountain!" the sword exclaimed excitedly as blood gushed out of the monster's neck.

Back-up rushed into the room, effectively ambushing the group, and they created a tight circle to protect the mages and defend against the attack. As effectively as they fought, they were outnumbered and many fledgling vampires managed to scratch and scrape and wound their victims.

"_You'll be a distraction, Gaelan," Jayda replied sincerely. "I won't be able to fight to my fullest if I think you're going to be Bodhi's next victim."_

"_I don't know whether to be happy ye value me life so highly or insulted ye think I be so easily overcome, insulted that any of ye friends—that the knightlin' can hold his own better than I can, or happy ye rather risk his life than mine."_

"_Think what you want, Gaelan—"_

"_I think I'm comin' with ye."_

"_No," she said seriously, "you're not."_

Anomen turned the undead foes that came at them and Aerie managed enough concentration to create another false dawn like she had on the dock, filling the room with a bright shock of light. The fledglings were instantly vaporized, but Durst wallowed and screamed in agony.

Haer'dalis plucked a stake from Jayda's store and threw it so strongly, so precisely that it speared the vampire in the heart. As the dawn died down, Durst slumped to the ground a charred corpse. She planted a firm hand on the bard's shoulder and nodded her thanks then focused on catching her breath.

"Give me a damage report," Jayda called out to her friends.

"Nothing a little magic can't heal," Jaheira promised her. As Aerie nodded knowingly, Jayda stopped her.

"Not you, Aerie. Save your magic. I'm sure we'll need it before this night ends."

The elf girl nodded again and withdrew from the healing circle Jaheira began to form. Once the wounds had been patched well enough for them to continue, they pressed on into the labyrinth until they came full circle back into the main hall. The thieves were just emerging from another tunnel.

"We cleared the other passage. Nothing back that way but a collapsed stairwell," one of the Thieves told her.

"Fine, I'll take this tunnel, you take that one," and Jayda pointed out their respective destinations. He nodded that he understood and the parties split up once again.

They fought their way through fledgling and fiend long into the night, through twisting turns and bloody corridors until finally they came to a massive chamber of blood and blades. The very sight of it chilled them to the core. It was obvious what this room was for: mass slaughter.

Lassal stood quietly in front of a large well of blood draining deep into the earth. He slowly lifted his chin and opened his eerie, yellow eyes.

"Think yourself brave enough to stand before me?" he asked in his growl of a voice. "Perhaps bravery is not enough!" He motioned his minions forward and they crawled out of the darkness and spikes, twisted and hopeless creatures, deformed and grotesque.

"Bravery, stupidity—whatever gets the job done!" Jayda shouted, whipping a dagger out of her boot and tossing it across the room; it speared a monster between the eyes and he slumped lifelessly into the spikes.

"Cattle such as you will spoil the herd!" Lassal roared angrily. "Your blood will remain stale on the stone of the floor when I am through! You are not worthy, you fools!" He stretched out his arms and sent his twisted children into battle. "For mistress Bodhi, I will eviscerate you! She shall have tapestries of your sinew and bone! Come! Come to your end!"

He barked and growled, baring his vicious and bloody fangs. Carefully, the group found ground to stand and fight amid the spikes and blades. Jayda crossed her weapons and braced herself as Lassal charged. As he collided with her block, she loosened her weapons and slashed across his chest, noting the neck wounds had already healed.

They traded slashes until he had turned and backed her into the slaughterhouse. She caught glimpses of her friends in their fights, noting how Minsc and Aerie fought like a perfect team. Jaheira held her own like the proud warrior she was while Anomen and Haer'dalis protected Edwin; the wizard launched spell after spell, ripping through their enemies in full force.

Jayda slapped Lassal's claws away with her short sword and plunged her dagger into his gut before he knocked her back. She rolled, feeling a spike rip into the sleeve of her tunic and tear it away. She got back to her feet and met the next attack, but the second time she stuck Lassal with her dagger, she lost her grip on it. It remained stuck fast in his chest.

"_I have every right to help ye," Gaelan whispered as the others began to gather on the floor below them. He pulled her back into the corridor and cornered her against the wall. "Ye can't send me from ye side because ye think ye'll be distracted by me."_

"_I don't want to lose you…" she told him quietly, heart beating rapidly as she came dangerously close to confessing just what he truly meant to her. Gaelan searched her eyes with such intensity that she was afraid she would give it up, but how she could speak around the lump forming in her throat was a mystery._

"_Why?" he asked gently._

"_Because I…"_

Jayda grunted as Lassal slashed her chest and kicked her in the stomach. She hit the rusted rim of the well and pain shot through her back. A hand clamped around her throat and she barely managed to tug at his fingers to loosen his grip enough to keep him from crushing her throat. She kicked at his legs until she knocked him back enough to elbow the dagger in his chest. He hissed and reeled back just long enough for her to bring her short sword up. She used it to hold him off, the flat surface pressed to his throat as his fangs snapped and gnashed at her face. Red lines appeared in his neck as the blade dug into his skin.

Lassal roared and reared back, swatting aside her weapon. He reaffirmed his grip on her throat and twisted her head to the side. As he lunged back at her, Jayda rose to meet him. She jerked a stake from her belt and jammed it into his heart.

An inch before his fangs sunk into her neck, he stopped, gaping in pain. She kicked him off of her and watched as his body was speared by his own slaughter-traps.

"_Because I…" Jayda mumbled again._

"_Because ye… what?"_

"_Because I… am your client, and you are my handler."_

Jayda slung her hand and watched the blood fly off her fingertips. She then retrieved her weapons and joined her friends as the last of their enemies fell.

"Come on," she muttered. "Bodhi's still out there."

They retraced their footsteps to the main hall and took the tunnel the Shadow Thieves had taken. It led them to a large, dark room with a low ceiling and coffins lining the walls. In the center of the room stood Bodhi, a small and sinister looking woman with hair as black as night and eyes even blacker. At her feet were the corpses of the thieves they had hoped to save.

Jayda closed her eyes and whispered a silent apology to Renal, as well as a thank you to him and his men for bravely following after her.

"I had hoped it would not come to this," Bodhi hissed, "but you are set in your path, aren't you?"

Jayda motioned to the coffins and tossed stakes to Minsc.

"Spread out. Kill the sleepers," Jayda told her companions.

"I won't let you do that," Bodhi growled.

"What are you going to do to stop me?" Jayda asked and swung her short sword in a circle over her knuckles. She caught the hilt and pointed it at the vampire. "Kill me, Bodhi?"

She glared, twitching agitatedly with every stake that was hammered into one of her dark children.

"And how do you choose which evil to destroy?" Bodhi asked her. "You do seem to overlook whichever is convenient to do so. Take your employers, cloaked in shadow, hiding intentions. Tell me, have the Shadow Thieves done more than promise? Have they delivered anything, or have they simply made certain you are always within reach?"

"They will deliver or I will destroy them as I have done your little coven. Is this not what you would have bade me do? You told me so yourself."

"Then what of answers," she prompted with a wicked smile. "Have they said why they sought your service, why they offered to help you? Was the gold so important to them? Or were you being observed, your capabilities mapped and charted. Ask yourself what you bring to the equation. Gold? Gold is never in short supply for long. Service? There are others that would serve as well."

Bodhi flinched again as another stake was hammered into another heart.

"They know full well who and what I am," Jayda replied.

"Do they?" she hissed and took a step closer. "_I_ know what you are, child of Bhaal. Irenicus told me. He might have learned more, awakened your power, but the Thieves interrupted him. There is so much beneath your nose, so much you do not see. Even Imoen escaped your notice!"

Jayda felt her blood begin to boil and the power rising to the surface. Her eyes—they were glowing. She knew they were glowing. She shut her eyes, tried to fight it, but Bodhi's venomous words continued to rip and prick at her control.

"Irenicus did not seem the type to have anyone close to him," Jaheira said from across the room. "Why were you there?"

"I was there because I chose to be, the duty of any good 'sister'," she replied to the druid then snapped her gaze back to Jayda. "Of course, you are not familiar with such virtues… since those around you die and hurt, failed by you and your lack of power."

_Jayda tried to leave again but he pushed her back against the wall._

"_Jayda," he said, warning her to be serious. She suddenly pulled him into her and kissed him._

"_I _can't_ lose you," she whispered seriously._

"I'll have your black heart!" Jayda shouted in a voice that was not her own. Her eyes glared with amber light. "And your blood will wash these tombs! And when I have finished with you, I will sunder your brother's head from his body!"

Bodhi hissed and attacked, and they collided in a fury of power.

"Jayda!" Jaheira screamed. "Don't give in!" But her voice did not reach her friend. She looked back at the others. "Quick, destroy the witch! We must stop Jayda from tapping any more rage!"

Haer'dalis notched two arrows and let them fly, but the spiked tips seemingly had no effect on the vampire. Minsc, Jaheira, and Anomen charged, swinging, and barely managed to graze her. Bodhi deftly dodged their blows, somehow capable of countering or dodging each attack. The only one who seemed capable of hurting her was Jayda, enflamed by the Bhaal blood.

The vampire hissed and struck out, intending to get at Jayda through her friends, gashing Minsc's arm and slicing deep into Jaheira's stomach. Haer'dalis grabbed a stake and tried to throw it into her heart, but she caught it and tossed it back, catching him in the leg.

Still, they kept coming, never tiring. The flicker of anger in Bodhi's eyes communicated her distress and, as Jayda hacked away at her, it became obvious she would die.

So the vampires created a thick fog and began dissipating.

"Well, that certainly was… educational," she told them bitterly. "I have seen enough, and I am done with you… for now."

"Go!" Jayda boomed. "Crawl back to your master, worm! Tell him I am coming for him! I will see him soon!"

Bodhi glared one last time before she disappeared, and then the fog was sucked out through the doorway. Jayda fell to one knee, holding her head and trying desperately to fight the godblood rushing through her veins, hammering her temples.

"Jayda!" Jaheira exclaimed, dropping to her knees at her friend's side. "Are you all right? Say something!"

"I'm okay…" she whispered breathily. "Help me up, please."

"Jayda… you tapped into the power like I've never seen before…"

"I know. It's getting worse."

Jaheira gripped Jayda's shoulder tightly.

"I won't let you become him," the druid told her. Jayda nodded firmly.

"I know…"

Jayda looked down at the bloody arm that covered the wound on Jaheira's stomach; her armor was ripped. She reached out and opened her palm, releasing the energy she felt lurking under her skin. Jaheira suddenly cried out and hunched over, grunting. The wound had started to cauterize, oozing darkened blood, and though it started to mend… it was excruciating. She withdrew her hand and smashed her fist into the ground.

"Damn it!" she hissed. "I'm sorry… Jaheira, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," the druid mumbled, voice strained. "I'm all right…"

Minsc helped the women to their feet and the group scrambled through the only other corridor unexplored, climbing quickly up a steep set of stairs. They slide away the lock and pushed open the heavy doors, stumbling onto the surface of the graveyard. They were injured, worn, and covered in black dust and grave mold.

On the horizon, a stream of red and yellow began illuminating the sky.

"Look, Anomen," Aerie breathed to the man next to her, awed by the sight. "The sun is rising!"

"Aye," he replied, "like a bird of raw and flaming power…"

"_I can't lose ye either," Gaelan replied._

"_You won't," she told him. "I promise… you won't."_


	19. Knights and Thieves

**Author's Note: **Aside from giving credit to BioWare for their wonderful game and wonderful writing, I also have to give credit to the awesome people who created all the mods I've been playing with. They've added wonderful addition content for me to play with so... yes, CHEERS and PROPS to you guys! : D

* * *

**Knights and Thieves**

They stood before the great doors of the High Hall of the Radiant Heart, two monumental statues rising on either side of them with golden cloaks and bronze swords inscribed with the Order's laws and mission. Seagulls chirped overhead, swooping across the great waterway that flooded much of the Temple District, and then the harbor bells chimed in the distance.

The messenger had come just after sunrise when Jayda and her companions had returned to the city from the Graveyard District. Anomen's test was to be that morning. So, tired, they returned to the Copper Coronet, washed up, ate, and changed their armor. Jaheira and Aerie helped bandage and heal Anomen's wounds and then dressed him in his finest armor.

He stopped at Jayda's door on his way out and held out his hand, asking her to overlook whatever anger she may have at him for just that morning and please accompany him to his Test. So she had. And there they stood, shoulder to shoulder.

"I… I am not looking forward to the judgment I shall receive here," Anomen said quietly.

"Why not?" she asked. "Are they not fair?"

"They are fair, my lady. I am not unsettled by the chance they will make the wrong decision… I am unsettled by the chance that they will make the right one."

Jayda frowned. "Anomen…?"

"This test will dictate my entire future, as the Order will decide whether or not I will be allowed into their ranks. It is everything I have strived for, everything I have wanted—after years spent proving myself. I… don't know what I would do if I failed the Test… And, yet, suddenly I am quite sure that I _will_ fail it."

"Anomen! Why would you think that?"

He turned to face her. "It is my heart that will betray me," he said most assuredly. "I feel faithless and worthless in my soul… and they will know if it. I have tried so hard, and yet it all seems to come to naught."

"Listen to me," she said, planting her hands firmly on his armored shoulders. "You must be confidant that you follow the right path, Anomen. As you said, you have strived for this your whole life, tailored your conscience to the Order's ideals. If you follow your conscience, how can they refuse you?"

"Because I do not know my own conscience, my lady. I would not turn to others for guidance if I did…"

Jayda took a deep and slow breath, recounting all of the times he had asked her for advice and counsel. She wanted to say something reassuring but the words weren't forming in her brain.

"What if I am accepted into the Order and I find I have no true place in it?" he asked, voice filled with fear. "And what if I am refused… and I discover the future has no place for me?"

"You have a place, Anomen… in the Order and in the world. You have already done so much for both. People like your father who lose themselves in drink and ruin, they fall from their place in the world. But you? Who strives every day to see wrongs righted, justice done for those the law overlooked? There is always room in the world for someone like that. Don't ever forget that."

He found a smile, tense as it was, and then turned to face the doors. He took a deep breath and they entered. The glass-like floor reflected soft torchlight, red drapes, and ivory columns with bases of warm, dark wood. The quiet of the hall reminded Jayda of a church, not an organization; she had once stood in a Harper's Hold with Jaheira and, while there existed a sense of serenity, it was still a bustle of men and woman working hard for their cause.

"Squire Anomen," an attendant said as he approached them. "The Prelate waits within. May Torm be with you on this day."

"And also with you," he replied nervously and the attendant bowed and excused himself. Anomen took a deep breath. "Come," he said, "and witness the Judgment."

They stepped through a red curtain and followed a narrow hallway to a large room with similar columns and drapes like the entry hall. Carved into the glassy floor was the symbol for the Radiant Heart and, on the far end of the room, three thrones were carved into a white, marble dais. The Prelates stood in front of their chairs and, in the center, the chief of them—Wessalen—looked sternly upon Anomen. Behind them, a marble depiction of Torm stood vigilant and discerning.

Jayda hung back as Anomen made his way to the center of the heart carved on the floor and stood where the opposing lines crisscrossed.

"Anomen Delryn," the Chief Prelate began, "son of Cor and Moirala, do you stand before me pledged to the service of justice? Do you stand before me pledged to the service of righteousness?"

"Prelate of the Order, I so stand," Anomen replied. "I pledge my life to the service of justice and righteousness."

"Anomen Delryn, do you stand before me seeking a knighthood of the Order?"

"I do so stand."

"Do you stand before me prepared to accept the Judgment of Torm? Are your actions laid bare? Shall I judge you as I have been judged?"

"My past and my actions I lay bare before you." Anomen bowed his head. "I ask that you judge me as you have been judged."

"Then welcome to this place, Anomen." The Prelate's gaze and voice softened for only a moment. "Is there aught that you would say before we begin?"

"Only that all of my life… I have dreamed of this day," he replied, "of becoming a knight, of bringing justice to the immoral and prejudiced, of invoking righteousness to combat wickedness…" He lifted his gaze. "Judge me as you have been judged."

"So shall it be," Wessalen replied quietly. He lifted his hands and face to the ceiling and the Council behind him followed his lead. "May the spirit of Torm enter this chamber!" he boomed, and suddenly the torchlight dimmed and a fierce wind whipped out of nowhere. "May my Judgment be unclouded!"

The supernatural force that invaded the sacred hall tugged and jerked on Jayda's clothing and she had to hold onto a nearby column to keep herself on her feet. Lights flashed and thunder boomed and she thought she felt raindrops hitting her face. She squinted through the dark haze and saw Anomen in a vortex of energy, arms spread wide and feet lifted off of the floor.

Something inside of her pulsed and she leaned forward, wanting to go to him, fight for him, defend him, save him. What if he failed his Test because of her? Because of something she had influenced him to do? Had she led him down the wrong path? Was her godblood a corruption that she couldn't see? Perhaps she had sent him to his doom trying to send him toward the light… perhaps she could never be a force of good, only death, and to think otherwise was nothing but foolishness.

Jayda gripped the column even tighter and forced herself to resist. Then suddenly there came a voice in her heart.

_The world turned by the universe, base creatures by instinct, mortals by the gods; what, then, moves the gods? Of all truths, Red Lady, only one rings above the others: all forces, great and small, choose their first step and take the other as a consequence of the first._

A sudden peace washed over her and the storm dissipated. The torches returned to their full light and the hall looked as though nothing had ever transpired. Even the wetness of the supposed rain droplets was gone. Jayda looked to the center of the room, to Anomen kneeling before the Prelate.

"The Judgment is clear," Prelate Wessalen said, and then smiled, extending his arms welcomingly. "Anomen Delryn, you have proven yourself worthy." He stepped down off the dais and produced a vial of foggy liquid. He dipped his fingers and anointed Anomen by drawing a mark on his forehead with the oil. "I dub thee _Sir_ Anomen, Knight of the Order. Arise, Knight, and give your oath."

Anomen stood and proudly lifted his gaze the statue of Torm.

"Under witness of all gathered, I swear to uphold the honor of the Order for as long as I shall live. I pledge my dying breath to the service of good. In Torm's name, I swear… I shall never falter 'neath your banner."

"Go then, Sir Anomen," Wessalen said, touching Anomen's shoulder, "and serve the cause. May Torm bless thee."

"And thee," Anomen replied, touching the Prelate's shoulder.

The men shared a knowing look and then turned from each other. Jayda followed Anomen out of the Judgment Hall and back to the main floor. She waited to say anything as the mood was still so heavy and serious. In the hall, a paladin came forward and smiled at Anomen.

"Anomen," he began, "ah, _Sir_ Anomen, I congratulate you." The two men firmly shook hands and hugged around their bulky armor. "I welcome you and honor your knighthood."

"Thank you, Sir Trawl," Anomen replied, beaming. "I am pleased to serve you with strength of arms and a faith in Torm."

"You have long-awaited this day… and I could tell you wavered—your belief in yourself. But I knew this day would come. I knew we would shake hands as equals and I would welcome you as my brother." Ryan Trawl smiled and motioned for them to follow him. "Come," he said, "we have things to discuss."

They followed him down the hall to his office and they all took chairs. For a long while, Trawl and Anomen discussed what jobs and responsibilities the conferred title of knight would mean for Anomen, right down to brass tacks like uniforms, ceremonial armor, sashes of the Order, and weapons commissions. Anomen was to be given his own quarters within the Order building and, after he was established, would be granted a squire or two to guide. When it was all said and done, the paladin cleared his throat.

"Normally, Sir Anomen, you would accompany me as my man at arms; there will be an expedition to the far south and you would have soldiers under your command. But I understand you have committed yourself to the righteous path in escorting Jayda in her quest to rescue her friend. Therefore, until this task is complete, I permit you to continue your duty to the Order in her service, if you wish; or, if you desire, you may accompany me."

"Thank you, Sir Trawl, and as tempting as an offer it may be, I wish to stay with Jayda. I will continue my service with her—"

"No," she suddenly said. "Anomen will serve here, at the Order. Or in the south, wherever you wish it. I release him to you."

"What?" Anomen gasped, turning a confused stare on her. "What are you saying, my lady?"

"Perhaps I should give you a moment," Trawl said and excused himself.

"Is this because of the thief?" Anomen asked when Trawl had gone. Jayda shook her head, standing up to leave. He stood with her.

"This is what's best for you. You have achieved what you wanted, Anomen—the reason you joined me in the first place. Stay here. Serve the Order. Where I go, evil and darkness and death reside."

"All the more reason I should accompany you!" he insisted as she crossed to the door. "I swore to protect y—!"

"I don't hold you to that oath, Anomen," she said, whirling to face him. "This is where you belong."

"But… my lady…" he whispered, brows knit together and eyes reflecting the hurt she knew he must be feeling. "Do you remember nothing of my pledg—"

"Aye, I remember, Anomen. But I do not have those kinds of feelings for you." She tried to leave again but his voice followed her.

"But you have them for a, for a thief?"

"I'm sorry if I led you to believe the contrary. I respect you. I admire you. You are a good man, and I'll be glad when I hear of all the good things you're going to do in service to the Order." She clenched her jaw to steel herself, knowing she had to make sure there was no room in her explanation for him to find hope. "I care for you, Anomen, but I do not love you."

Anomen's eyes dropped to the ground, the shock and hurt on his face all too evident.

"Stay," she said coldly. "This is where you belong. This is your place in the world."

Jayda turned her back on the heartbroken Knight, desperately wishing there had been an easier way. She remembered his story of how his father had ruined his happiest memory when he became a squire. Now, she had sunk even lower, crushing his heart on the day he achieved knighthood. She was such a terrible person. But there was no other way to protect him that he would understand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she crossed the grand hall and exited the building, leaving the Radiant Hearts and the broken ones behind.

/

Aran Linvail smiled knowingly as Jayda was ushered into his room once again. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and they stood facing one another for a long moment.

"My advance spies said that you confronted Bodhi in her lair," he finally said, "and that it was a bloody affair."

"The guild is destroyed. None save Bodhi escaped," she replied.

"Then your task is complete." They squared off again and Aran grinned. "But I feel you have more to say."

"Don't you?" she asked. "Bodhi had much to say before we parted ways."

"I see," he mumbled and casually walked away from her. "And what was it that she said? I trust you are aware of the deceptive nature of her kind?"

"No more so than you," she replied with a smile. "Why did you attack Irenicus, Aran?"

He sighed. "You have proven worthy of an explanation… I shall answer as best I can. I am sorry I have not been fully honest, but we had to be sure you were not working for him. I assure you that we are still on the same side."

"You thought I was one of his pawns?" she asked in disbelief.

"We weren't sure. We knew of your capture almost as soon as it happened. Very little occurs in this province that we are not aware of. We paid little mind. Even though it was done outside of the Shadow Thieves, we thought that a simple kidnapping was nothing to be concerned of. But… soon after that, we started losing people."

Aran crossed to his liquor tray and poured a glass of dark liquid. He offered it to her but she shook her head so he capped the bottle and sipped his drink.

"That was when Bodhi appeared—though we did not know her name at the time. Members were threatened or seduced into her guild. None were seen again. We," he frowned, "we still don't know where most are. By chance, a body was found in the sewers, leading us to Irenicus and his strange dungeon. We battled and lost."

"I saw your efforts," she mumbled. "It was a slaughter."

"Mm," he grunted, still frowning. "And even though Irenicus was taken, we still had no reason as to why he killed our guild members. So we followed you. You were the only living thing to emerge from his prison. We watched your every step and made sure you would be close to us…"

"So that I could lead you to him," she finished for him. "So why all the money and deception? Why not just interrogate me?"

"We had to be sure," he told her. "We couldn't let an enemy into the guild—not when we were already so weakened. Your funds helped replace some of what we lost… as well ensure your commitment and, well, position within our cause."

"I see…" she whispered, tired by the runaround, by the hoops she'd had to jump through, by the entire situation.

"I suppose Imoen's capture was partly our responsibility," he said cautiously.

"No," Jayda said, shaking her head and crossing to a chair. She plopped into it, feeling for the first time the fatigue of a dinner with a Shadowmaster, slaying a vampire guild, escorting a knight to his trials, breaking his heart, and not yet having had a chance to sleep. "I do not blame you for that. Your attack is what freed us in the first place."

Aran nodded and quietly moved to sit across from her.

"You seek Imoen and Irenicus, and we seek answers," he said. "They were taken to the same place: the one site mages in Athkatla truly fear. I have heard it called a Residence for the Magically Deviant, but mages just call it Spellhold. It is an asylum where people are sent to disappear."

"If they keep Imoen from me, I will lay waste to it as I have done everything else."

"You must realize it is not as simple as launching an assault. Spellhold is a fortress, designed to hold mages and other talented individuals. The island it is located on is Brynnlaw and under its own rule… pirates, and even the Cowled Wizards are not certain what becomes of those sent there." He took a sip of his drink. "No one wanted to be associated with it once it began, so it is difficult just to book passage. But I have found a capable captain who is willing to take you there. Once on the island, you will be on your own to contend with the asylum's defenses and the pirate lords who run the port."

"I understand," she told him.

"His ship is set to arrive in port in a few days. I will do what I can to provide you with the provisions you will need for your journey." Aran managed a tight, almost regretful smile. "I am sorry I cannot do more for you, Jayda. You have done all that I asked, and more. You are, in every respect, one of us. I hate to think yet cannot help but believe that you will sail to your death. I don't like losing good men."

"Aran," she mumbled with a jesting, albeit tired, smile. "Are you saying you're going to miss me?"

He smiled back. "Oh, you are unforgettable, Jayda. I give you that." He took a deep breath. "I am still trying to figure out if Gaelan is an extremely lucky man… or an immensely unfortunate one. Perhaps Mae'Var was more fortunate in that you merely ended his life."

"I… I do not think Gaelan is so inclined…"

"Ah, you may be a talented rogue and fierce warrior, beautiful and powerful… but you are either naïve or in denial. Either way, it seems, you are just as cursed as he."

"I _am_ cursed," she whispered.

"Then I wish you had not drawn him into your web. He is a good thief, and a good man. I hate to think what he will become when you depart."

Jayda realized she had been frowning so tensely only when the muscles in her face began to ache from the strain. She struggled for a rebuttal, for some reason or proof that Gaelan's feelings for her were casual, but she knew she had nothing to say. As much as she had tried to deny it—his feelings, her feelings—she had reached the fork in the road where their paths were to part… and, with a regretful pang, knew she would leave another heart broken.

Jayda leaned forward and put her head in her hands.

"I'm relieved to see, at least, your heart is broken at the doing," he mumbled over the rim of his glass before he took another sip.

But the truth was that her heart was broken long ago. Shattered fragments remained, splintering into tinier pieces with each passing day, with each life lost. Somehow, with Gaelan, it must have mended… because now, she felt a profound pain in her chest.

She finally lifted her head and met Aran's gaze.

"I will do what I can to return him to the man you knew before," she promised.

He nodded his thanks, but said, "I fear the damage may already be done. Know that you have a place here if you wish to come back. Athkatla will not turn you away as Baldur's Gate did."

"But you can't promise that, can you?"

"I have enough pull in this city to say that, yes, I can promise it." He gently touched her cheek and smiled. "Return with Imoen as you wish. Kill Irenicus if you can."

When Jayda closed the door behind her, she lifted her head and took a deep breath. For all of Aran Linvail's games—the deception, the flirtation—he had turned out to be a man of extremely high quality.

/

Jayda took her seat at their claimed table in the Copper Coronet and nodded to Jaheira, Minsc, Aerie, and Haer'dalis.

"It is done," she told them. "We set sail for Brynnlaw in three days time. The Shadowmaster has promised to help provide us with the supplies we will need. It should be simple enough for three passengers."

"Three?" Aerie chimed in, looking from Minsc to Jaheira to Jayda. "I'm going."

"Aerie—"

"No," she said boldly. "I'm going. You rescued me, broke my chains, cared for me, protected me, helped me grow. I'm going with you, Jayda. I'm going to help you rescue Imoen." She timidly glanced at Minsc. "Besides… I'm Minsc's witch. He can't go anywhere without his witch."

"She is right," the ranger said, nodding sagely. Jayda smiled softly.

"All right." She shrugged one shoulder. "It will be good to have you, Aerie, and your magic."

"The Thayvian snake has lost interest, then?" Jaheira asked.

"Edwin is right where he wants to be," Jayda replied, nodding. "He's wizard to the Shadow Thieves, now. I doubt he'll be taking to the road again."

"And what of Anomen?" she wanted to know. "I have not seen him since he departed for his trial."

"I… I let Anomen go."

A quiet settled over the table until Haer'dalis cleared his throat.

"Then take me in his stead," he said. "I would see you—all of you, return from this venture alive."

"But your play—" Aerie began, but he interrupted her.

"They performed adequately long before I arrived and will continue to do so long after I am gone. The season is near finished and they will have several weeks to prepare new shows. They will do fine."

Jayda suddenly got up and walked away. He followed after her, stopping her near the bar.

"I can't be responsible for getting you killed, Haer'dalis. You're talented, you have a future outside of this ugliness—"

"And did I not tell you that there is beauty to be found? Your beauty?"

She lowered her head and blushed; trying to argue with such a skilled actor was difficult. She chewed her lower lip, trying to collect herself, her thoughts, and find a way to reject him. But she had done enough rejecting for one day and wanted nothing more than to simplify this complex mess.

"Ah, my timid raven, do you truly not recognize your own worth?"

"Worth?" she echoed, meeting his gaze.

"Confusion is a becoming look for you, dear raven," he told her with a grin. "I have to wonder if you are truly so innocent or if your acting skills are on par with my own. No, do not answer! I am determined to discover the truth on my own. Sadly, in spite of our time together and the truths you have given me, I know very little of you. The real Jayda is a mystery, an alluring enigma."

"Haer'dalis," she began flatly, "you're being an actor again."

"My apologies, raven," he said with a bow, but his amused smile debunked his sincerity. "I told you I would one day sing your story. This is my chance to live the tale, and learn of the parts I have missed. If you won't accept my true desire to help you, accept that I am a determined poet."

She took a deep breath. "Are you sure? It's going to be dangero—"

"If I was not sure, I would not have offered, my raven."

Jayda nodded. "Okay," she said quietly. "I haven't the strength to argue with you."


	20. The Ship to Carry Her Away

**The Ship to Carry Her Away**

The day before Jayda appeared before him that night in the Slums seemed like a lifetime ago. He was void of attachment save for the Shadow Thieves and spent each day in general bliss. Or, at least, he'd thought he had. Renal and Aran always used to tell him he was too smart for the role he played—being a Slum Lord—but Gaelan was smart enough to know the strength and resources of the Slums. That role had come with perks as well, because he laughed freely, drank carelessly, had a woman to warm his bed when he wanted one, and enjoyed his job.

All of that had changed when he saw her walking down the street. He didn't realize it then, of course. He had been utterly intrigued, but to say that he'd been floored into a personality change at the sight of her was an exaggeration even the most gullible couldn't buy into. But now, as he reflected on his life before and his life after, he could trace the downward spiral all the way back to his incorrigible curiosity.

The strange thing was that he couldn't regret it. He didn't want to go back to that moment the Shadowmaster had handed him his assignment and pass it on to another. If he could go back to that moment, he would have accepted the task gladly. He would have acted on his instincts sooner. He would have…

Gaelan sighed and rubbed his brow.

He would have what? They would still wind up in the position they were currently in. There was no moment he could alter that would change that. And yet he was so frustrated. He kept trying to figure out why—or rather a why that made sense to him.

There was a knock on the door so he crossed to it and answered. Jayda stared up at him with her stone-gray eyes flecked with amber; he noticed there was more amber than the last time they'd seen each other.

"Jayda," he said, surprised at the unfriendliness in his voice. He walked away and waited for her to come in.

"You're still angry…"

Angry? No. Bitter. Bitter that she had refused his aid when he wanted to stand by her to destroy the rival guild. She had denied him his last chance to stand with her and fight with her. Now she was leaving, going to a place he _couldn't_ follow.

"I'm not angry—" he tried to deny, but he registered the agitation in his tone.

"Then you're bitter, either way!" she blurted, stepping inside. "Don't be. Don't waste our last night together, Gaelan, not like this."

Gaelan stood stark still and stared at the floor as the word 'last' repeated over and over again in his head. It sounded so… final. Final, like this was the end. Forever.

He knew this day would come. He knew it the moment he met her, the night he took her as his lover, and it had been a knowledge circulating his brain every day since. And it made him so angry—angry that it had arrived, that it bothered him even after such advanced notice of how things would play out. But more than his anger, he felt compelled to hold her, as though doing so would somehow stall the future.

"Ye right," he mumbled numbly and stretched out his arm to her. "Come here."

She crossed to him and took his hand, allowing him to pull her into a hug. She laid her head on his chest and let him hold her.

"You were right," she said at length. "I let Anomen go."

He only nodded, unable to find any words to respond with. He wasn't as relieved as he thought he would be, too conflicted with other thoughts for it to matter as much as it might have a week ago.

"I heard Bodhi talked 'fore she ran scared," he muttered casually.

"She did. It's resolved."

"And everythin' went smoothly, ay?"

"Smoothly," she confirmed.

She told him everything that happened, from start to finish, until he was satisfied. Of course he wasn't entirely satisfied, but he was a bit proud of her efforts. He loved the warrior in her. He loved the rogue in her. It turned him on.

"There's a lot of gold in ye eyes now," he mumbled, brushing the hair from her face.

"I came very close to the power," she confessed. "I felt it flowing through me, beneath the skin, undulating—it was alive. I don't know why but I reached out, I reached out with the energy to Jaheira… Somehow I thought I could heal her."

"What happened?"

"I hurt her. The wound, it… it's like it was burning closed. I stopped before any real damage was done, but…"

"But ye still feel…" He trailed off, shrugged, and she nodded.

Jayda took a deep breath and slowly released it. Gaelan thought she was surprisingly calm about what had happened, considering how in the past she had been so terrified and upset by her blood that it often brought her to tears.

He plucked a red flower out of the vase that sat on a nearby table—a vase the quarter lady always stocked fresh when she came to clean his home—and slipped it behind her ear; it almost disappeared in those crimson strands. The flower reminded him of her: red, vibrant, passionate, and fierce. The moment he laid eyes on it, he thought of her, and so had told the quarter lady to keep stocking that particular flower—whatever it was.

"Gaelan," she suddenly said, and there was no mistaking the flicker of desire in her eyes; there was something else there, too, something… softer.

"Aye?"

"You, um," she grinned, "you want to take a bath with me?"

He inhaled through his nostrils, intrigued by her sudden proposal, and then reached up and pulled the ties from her wild, red hair, but left the flower where it was.

"Ye get dirty out there?"

"Filthy," she replied. He shook his head.

"Not yet," he promised, and kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into the kiss. He sensed her yearning instantly, surprised that it nearly overwhelmed his own. He cupped her face in his palms, fingers twisting into her hair, and let his tongue dance with hers. One hand glided down her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm, around her hips and then hooked under her thigh. He lifted her leg onto his hip and tugged her pelvis into his, losing himself in the feel of her curves pressed against him.

"Well," Renal said from the doorway, and Gaelan and Jayda jumped apart. "It seems I finally got the drop on you. Unless this whole exchange was concocted for my benefit."

"Damn it, what the hell ye doin' here, Renal?" Gaelan asked, noting how Jayda's face had flushed bright red. He frowned, turned on even more, and wondered how fast he could throw Renal out.

"Don't you remember?" he asked and smiled as Gaelan suddenly realized that it was their usual dinner night. "Jayda," he began, clasping his hands together, "I don't care what they say of you. You're an angel—a benevolent divine. You've allowed me to do what Gaelan bet me would never be possible."

Gaelan opened up his desk drawer, pulled out a sack of coins, and tossed it to Renal.

"Ay, there, ye chiseler," he mumbled.

"It's not cheating when no rule's been broken." He smiled.

"Ye in a good mood tonight, Renal," Gaelan noted and shoved his hands in his pockets. _Now, kindly take it elsewhere and let me get back to ripping her clothes off._

"Why wouldn't I be? The guild war is over."

The guild war was over. It had just dawned on him. He had been so caught up in what the destruction of the rivals would mean for him and Jayda, he completely forgot what it would mean for the Shadow Thieves. The war was over, Athkatla was safe, and everything would return to normal.

Normal.

Gaelan ran his hand over his face and told himself to get a grip. He was losing it. Losing it and he didn't even know why.

"Since you're here," Renal was saying to Jayda, "I suppose I should extend my thanks."

"It was a trade," she assured him.

"I'm being honest when I say that I hate to see you leave. Do you have any plans of returning?" Renal asked as he poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a sip. Gaelan focused on Jayda, on the flicker of hesitation in her demeanor as she looked at the floor and then shook her head.

"No," she confessed.

No? No. Not 'no, I don't know if I will be able to return' or 'no, this mission will be dangerous and I might not return', just 'no… I don't plan to come back'.

"I'm sorry to hear it." Renal said quietly then sighed.

Gaelan intercepted Renal's sympathetic gaze and used his many years of experience at being a scoundrel to cover up any trace of emotion that otherwise might have appeared in his expression. This had always been temporary. He had known it from the beginning. Hearing that she did not plan on returning was not what he wanted to hear, but neither was he surprised.

"I'm sorry about your thieves," Jayda told him.

"Thieves?" Gaelan repeated.

"I sent some thieves to Bodhi's lair," Renal explained and then nodded to Jayda. "I hope they did their job well."

So she had accepted Renal's thieves but denied him. Gaelan mentally bit his tongue, told himself not to bring it up. She had said she couldn't lose him. That should be reason enough. But he was still so bitter about it.

"They did," she replied. "They were outmatched only by Bodhi herself."

Renal smiled. "Good. Now, considering this couldn't get any more uncomfortable, I will take my leave." He touched her shoulder. "Farewell, Jayda. I'll remember you fondly."

"That you'll remember me at all is a comforting thought," she told him.

"Gaelan," Renal said, patting him on the shoulder. "See you next week."

Gaelan only nodded and watched Renal leave, closing the door behind him. Jayda sighed.

"That was… awkward," she mumbled.

"What did ye expect?" he asked.

"I don't know. Rejection? Like in Baldur's Gate."

"Ye bailed the city and the Thieves out of a very nasty war."

"I bailed Baldur's Gate out of Sarevok… That didn't stop them from casting me out."

"What can I say?" he muttered and shrugged. "Ye got in people's hearts."

"In yours, Gaelan?" Jayda asked as she looked at the floor.

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets again. How could he answer that? Yes? Saying yes wouldn't make her stay. Saying yes would only confirm everything he wasn't ready to confirm. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe she would leave and, in a week, he would forget her. But probably he would always be thinking of her, wondering where she was and if she was still alive.

"Why won't ye come back?" he asked her. She lifted her gaze, swallowed uncomfortably, and steeled her expression.

"It was just an affair, Gaelan," she told him. "It was a one-night stand that lasted as long as our pleasure was satisfied. And now it's over."

Just an affair? Aye… It had always been just an affair. That's what he told Aran, it's what he told Renal, and it's what he told himself every night and day that he questioned his motivations and emotions. But to hear her say it… with that cold look in her eyes… it pissed him off.

"Just an affair," he echoed. "Then if ye were me whore, I should pay ye, ay?"

"But Gaelan… I paid _you_." Her jaw clenched. "Fifteen thousand gold for a thief and a ticket away from this city. Expensive, don't you think?"

Gaelan had been stabbed before—plenty of times—and had arrows break his skin, but none of it had felt as painful as what she'd said. He stood, staring dumbfounded, probably gaping, and his mind was so blank with chaos that he had nothing to say.

"I'm sorry if you think I used you," she said, turning to go. "I was just returning the favor. I had a good time." She glanced back at him. "You're a very… _capable_ thief. Goodbye, Gaelan."

She opened and closed the door, and he was left alone.

/

The last two days were spent gathering and packing the provisions they needed. For all of her trips to the guild hall and through the Slums, Jayda had managed to effectively avoid Gaelan. Perhaps, he was also avoiding her. She doubted she could hide from him if he really wanted to find her. But he hadn't found her, and why would he want to? She couldn't blame him.

Jayda punched her dresser in frustration, shook her fist, and then continued packing with a throbbing pain in her knuckles, remembering their last minutes together. It was all she could think about in the forty-eight hours since they'd parted ways. It had made her tense and moody, and everyone had noticed—even Edwin had commented on it when she'd gone to say goodbye to him. Jaheira suspected it was the Bhaal essence that had been actively rising in her since the Bodhi incident, and Jayda did nothing to convince her otherwise. It was easier to let her friends think she was about to lose herself to the tainted blood of the dead Lord of Murder than it was to reveal she was heartsick over a man she cared deeply about.

"I went too far," she whispered in the quiet of her room.

But how else was she going to reverse the effects of their affair? Coldly refusing Anomen had worked, and so it had on Gaelan, as well. But that's not what she had wanted to do. She had wanted to spend her last days in Athkatla with him, peaceful, loving, serene… happy. But she had promised Aran she would do what she could to return him to the man he used to be. More than her promise, she wanted Gaelan to be happy, to be free from her burdens and shackles. More than _that_, she wanted him to survive—something not many people she loved ever were able to do.

But Gaelan had looked so… shocked. He had seemed so wounded. More so than Anomen had. Perhaps Aran was right; perhaps the damage had already been done. She _had_ used him. He had been her comfort, relief, release, pleasure, assurance… and she had given him nothing in return. She had even stolen his smile.

Jayda sighed frustrated and shoved the rest of her belongings into the small pack. She eyed the red flower Gaelan had given her, lying on the bed and softly glowing with the enchantment she'd paid for. It was the only real token she had to remember him by—a reminder of the pleasure and the happiness… and a reminder of the regret.

She gently picked it up and laid it in a small, wooden box and stuffed it into her pack then buckled it up. With a deep breath, she fastened on the Shadow Armor Aran had given her then belted her swords on her hips. There was no time for regret. She couldn't know what would happen when she reached Spellhold. Would Imoen still be alive? Thinking about it made her so angry, only the thought that she still felt Imoen's spirit in the world kept her from losing control. But what if that was just false hope? What if Imoen was dead? What would that mean for Jayda? Would she lose herself to the godblood?

"It's better this way," she told herself for the hundredth time.

Jayda tugged her pack on and left her room. Down the hallway, she stopped outside Jaheira's door, thought about knocking, and then heard the druid wince. She barged in, worried, and stopped short in the doorway. Jaheira quickly tugged her shirt down over her stomach but it was too late. Jayda had seen.

"Jaheira," she snapped, stomping across the room.

"Don't, it's nothin—"

She tried to ward her off but Jayda swatted her hands aside and jerked up the druid's tunic. Her stomach wound had been healed, though a dark, almost cauterized line knotted angrily to prove the wound had once been there. Black veins spidered from the scar and pale flesh surrounded it.

"By Leira, what have I done to you?" Jayda muttered.

"You tried to help me—"

"I've scarred you, Jaheira!"

"You were trying to heal me!"

"I'm no healer! I'm no mage, no priest—I had no business trying to use my power to do anything to anyone!"

"Jayda!" Jaheira gripped her friend's arm and forced her to look up. "My magic rejected the power of Bhaal and had some… unexpected results. That's all."

"I've tainted you," Jayda mumbled regretfully. "I shouldn't have touched you. I've left the taint in you."

She gently brushed her fingertips across Jaheira's stomach and the thin, black veins. They undulated, darkened in a pulse of power, responding to the source.

"I'm going to fix this," Jayda promised her. "I won't leave you this way."

"Jayda," Jaheira snapped. "I'm fine. I appreciate what you tried to do for me, but don't worry. We'll figure it out together."

The two women stared at one another and finally Jayda nodded. She helped Jaheira finish packing and then they checked in on Aerie. After helping the wingless elf girl decide what to bring and what to leave behind, they met Minsc and Haer'dalis downstairs and set out into the night.

The group made their way to the Docks district and to the port where the ship was waiting. Men were crawling all over it like spiders, making reparations, replacements, and loading and unloading cargo. A seafarer stood on the dock, hands on his hips, and was barking orders to the others. Jayda guessed he was the captain. He turned to look at her as she came down the ramp.

"You lot my fare?" he hollered and she nodded. "Your well-funded," he said when she was standing next to him.

"I'm told I have your ship as well as the silence of your crew, Captain."

"Aye, though a silence more symbolic than anything," he told her, tongue slurring with a working-class accent, "as you may well find my men a boisterous lot at all hours. I encourage general revelry." He held out his hand to her, emphasizing his flamboyant nature. "Saemon Havarian, and this beauty is my ship. The name changes as do the winds, mainly as I never seem to affix the plate with the proper resin. She is the Galante for now, until whim takes me elsewhere."

"Jayda," she replied with a smile.

"Well met. And your, uh, friends here?"

"This is Jaheira and Aerie. The tall one is Minsc and the other is Haer'dalis," she explained, pointing to each of her companions.

"Well met," Saemon exclaimed. "I trust we'll have a pleasant voyage; I have traveled this sea a good many times, and I foresee no troubles, but heed my words, all of you, as there are dangers to the sea you may not be aware of. A sudden squall or hidden reef could prove deadly to the unwary. Then there are the pirates—a likely encounter."

"Which is why I've included some protection," Aran interrupted him, walking down the landing with his escort of guards and a woman Jayda remembered seeing around the guild house every time she dropped in to see him.

"Protection?" Saemon repeated, frowning. "I was not aware of any such plans. The captain should be consulted on all such matters."

"Certainly." Aran smiled. "I am providing an extra crew member, one that will attempt to improve the overall safety of the voyage." He motioned to everyone present. "I trust you've all been acquainted."

"Aye," Jayda confirmed.

"Good. This is Sime," he pointed to the woman by his side, "and she will be working very close to you, Captain. For your protection, of course."

"Of course," Saemon replied bitterly, clearly put out by the lack of trust and truncation of his authority.

"I shall make certain that, should we be surprised at sea, death will not come from a surprise source," Sime said with a purr of a voice. "Do I make myself clear?"

"As clear as clear could be, m'lady," Saemon replied, "though I can assure you that nothing untoward will happen during our crossing." He turned back to the ship and clapped his hands together. "We're just about loaded and ready to sail. We'll be underway soon, so best get your things aboard. My first mate, Alan, will show you to your rooms. If you'll excuse me…"

Jayda watched him go and turned back to Aran.

"Sime will advise you," he said. "She is acquainted with a few of the inhabitants of the island. Keep your eye on Saemon. His was the only ship to offer passage, and I trust that like a stranger in my city."

"Don't worry," Jayda said and grinned. "I may not be able to sail the ship to Brynnlaw if there's something foul afoot, but if Saemon betrays me, I can definitely kill him."

Aran nodded. "Of course. Then this is goodbye. Good luck, Jayda. May Mask conceal in your footsteps."

"And yours," she replied quietly and watched him walk away.

Jayda and her companions were used to traveling light, but they had Aran's people deliver several sacks of rations to the ship just in case, as well as a case of arrows and a few small chests of various poisons. They started forward to load everything up, but Aerie pulled Jayda back.

"Why did you let me come with you?" she asked timidly.

"Didn't you know? Minsc was in need of a witch."

"I… I know that's something we decided, but you had made your decision to leave me behind knowing that. So why?"

"You were so determined before" Jayda said, glancing back at her. "Are you losing your footing now?"

"No, I… I just want to know."

Jayda stared long and hard at the little elven girl, so fragile and pure.

"What happened to your wings, Aerie?" she finally asked.

"M-my wings?"

"Yes, your wings."

Aerie fidgeted uncomfortably but didn't shy away from the conversation. She finally held her chin up bravely and told the story.

"When I was first captured, I was locked in a cage and put on display. It was so small, I could barely stand, much less stretch my wings. My wings…" her voice wavered, "became diseased and the infection nearly killed me. To save my life, they… they cut them off." She pursed her lips, eyes misting with the painful memory. "They cut off my wings…"

"That's why I brought you," Jayda told her. "Because you're strong enough now to fly without your wings." She touched Aerie's cheek and smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry you had to lose them, Aerie. And I can't promise that staying with me you won't lose more than that. But you have a chance now to get out of that cage and stretch wings of a different kind. And I won't stop you. I can't."

The wingless Avariel smiled and walked side by side with Jayda as they loaded things onto the ship. Jayda gave Aerie the important task of carrying the small, lighter packs while she helped Minsc, Jaheira, and Haer'dalis load the heaver things. It took two trips to transfer everything to the ship and, on the return trip, Jaheira tapped Jayda's shoulder and motioned to the end of the dock.

Anomen took a hesitant step forward, silently beckoning to her, so she dusted off her hands and walked over to him.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"I'm going with you," he replied quietly.

"I thought we had this conversation."

"Aye, my lady, we did. That's true. But I've had plenty of time to think things through. You see, your… rejection of my feelings did not hurt quite as much as I thought it might. But the idea that you could be in danger and I couldn't help you—that hurt deeply. I vowed to protect you and I meant it."

"Anomen—"

"You are a… a dark flame, my lady, that I am drawn to almost against my will. I tried to do as you told me and stay behind, but I could not stop thinking about you and the danger you are sailing into. I'm coming with you—not for myself, for some hope of a chance you'll someday return my feelings—but for you. Because I want to protect you."

"Anomen!" she hissed. "Don't be stupid! You've achieved your dreams, you're a knight of the Order! Don't throw that away for me."

"Perhaps, I have a new dream now," he told her. "Perhaps, in knowing you, I've refined my dream!"

"Go back to the better dream," she warned him. "In this one, you could die—or worse, be met with wickedness that bars justice, evil so complete that the light of good cannot penetrate its darkness. You could become like me."

Anomen nodded solemnly. "And no one would know better than you, my lady," he said honestly. "And you have warned me fairly. But this is my choice to make. I wanted to join the Order, and I fought my father all of my life to do so. What makes you think I will lie down and take your authority? This is my life. Let me live it the way I want to."

Jayda swallowed hard. She was shocked at what had finally come out of his mouth. There was such strength in him she had never seen before—perhaps because she had blinded herself with assumptions. She had seen his innocence and purity and admired it, cherished it, and wanted to protect it. But in her self-righteousness, she had mistaken his purity for weakness. And what a mistake it had been.

"Load your things on the ship," she told him quietly. "The Captain's already made first call to embark."

Anomen smiled, nodded, and hoisted his pack over his shoulder. Without another word, he stepped around her and headed for the ship. Jayda looked down the dock and went rigid. There in the mist was Gaelan, hands in his pockets. Her heart began pounding, chest constricting, and nerves tingling. Why was he here? To see her off, to yell at her, to land one more blow before a permanent goodbye? Was he angry that she had allowed Anomen to come back?

Jayda shook the questions out of her head and pushed forward, quickly crossing the dock in spite of how sluggish and weighted her feet suddenly felt.

"What do you want, Gaelan?" she asked coldly, and her throat felt so dry it was hard to talk.

"I want ye to know that I'm not stupid and that I know what it is ye tryin' to do. And I know what it is 'cause I was the one who gave ye the idea in the first place, with the knightlin'." He narrowed his gaze on her. "Ye tryin' to protect me. Don't."

"It… it was an affair, Gaela—" she tried to say, but she was losing her ability to speak and, that time, her rebuttal sounded like a weak excuse even to her.

"I heard ye the first time." He bent at the waist and leaned close to her face. "I don't believe ye," he whispered, "and I'm not havin' ye bullshit, so don't even waste ye breath. I'm insulted ye think I'm as daft as the knightlin'."

Jayda looked down at the ground, too ashamed and overwhelmed to continue eye contact. She had tried so hard to push them away, to save them, and on both men her efforts had failed. She had used the only method she'd known: hurt. But she was too full of herself to believe that she was smarter than they were, stronger than they were.

She didn't deserve either of their affections.

Gaelan lifted her head by her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Ye know, I been with whores and harlots," he told her, "and I've had plenty of one-night stands, some that lasted quite a few nights, and I never in me whole life been with a woman claimin' she only wanted pleasure from me but trusted me enough to reveal her burdens… and cry in front of me." He shook his head. "I donno why ye rather me think ye a whore than who ye are, but I know ye be lyin'."

Jayda knew that staying silent was admitting he was right by omission, but she couldn't speak. She could barely think. She managed to keep her frown only because she was so stunned, so confused, so… relieved that he wasn't the fool she'd tried to make him out to be.

"Ye told me I was a capable thief. That bit hung with me, ye know, 'cause I thought back and couldn't ever remember goin' on any run with ye. How could ye possibly know what kind of thief I be if we never worked together—and ye know I know and I know ye know the nasty business of takin' someone else's word on anything, so it couldn't be that Renal or Aran put in the good word for me. So tell me, what exactly did I steal to get ye seal of approval?"

Jayda's jaw opened and closed but no words came out. What did he steal? How could she answer that? She mentally cursed her own stupidity at giving herself away like that. Not that it mattered. He'd still seen right through her.

Gaelan nodded, clearly understanding what her silence meant. But she still saw his disappointment clearly in his expression. She couldn't blame him; he was probably very disappointed in how weak she had turned out to be, in how much of a coward she was, in how severely lacking her trust in him had been.

He brushed her chin with his index finger then lightly and quickly caressed the side of her face as he stood up straight.

"I'll be seein' ya," he said.

Jayda just stared at him and then numbly turned her back on him and walked back to the ship. Every footstep seemed to thunder through her, making her legs feel wobbly and feeble. When she at last reached the ship and boarded, Haer'dalis met her at the rail where she paused to glance back at Gaelan in the fog.

"You shouldn't throw love away, my raven, when it can give you so mu—"

"Haer'dalis," she began, "I have given you permission to sing my story, and you can ask me any question you want, but this one." The ship slowly began moving. "Gaelan Bayle is off-limits."

The tiefling nodded. "As you wish, my raven."


	21. By Way of Swords

**Author's Note: ** Thanks for your patience everyone! I hope you're still with me! I have every intention of seeing this story through to the end. I just had some busy few weeks after moving with family, getting a new computer, etc. Plus, whenever I move (this happened the last time, too) I have a hard time getting back into the swing of things. The space feels foreign, so its hard for me to write. BUT, I'm on it now and I hope you guys continue to read and enjoy!

* * *

**Act 4**

**By Way of Swords**

Two weeks on the sea, that was the time Saemon told Jayda to expect their trip to take. If the winds were in their favor—which apparently hadn't so far been the case for most of that year's summer voyages—they could make the trip in a week in a half or less. Three days out to sea and luckily they'd been making decent time. Saemon had joked that she was his good luck charm, or someone in her group, and they should consider becoming permanent additions to the crew. That jest was met with awkward laughter and uncomfortable silence that required Minsc's declaration that he knew nothing about sailing to properly diffuse the tension.

Jayda took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, perched starboard on the ship, legs through the rail posts and swinging freely over the side. Between her fingers, she held the red flower that Gaelan had given her. It was still as vibrant as it had been a week ago when he'd placed it in her hair. With Athkatla behind her, she felt a little bit emptier inside. She found herself missing him, regretting what she said. Why couldn't she have said, "yes, I'll come back, wait for me"?

Jayda blew her hair out of her eyes and looked up at the setting sun just a red sliver on the horizon. The answer to that question was depressing: she didn't know if she was coming back… because she didn't know if she would survive her encounter with Irenicus. Her gaze dropped to the water below her feet, at the sharp waves lapping at the boat. She understood why it was called the Sea of Swords; to her, it looked as though waves of blades churned beneath her feet. If she threw herself into it, would the nightmare end?

The only thing that lifted her spirits and allowed her to focus was the fact that she was finally moving forward to save Imoen. With that thought ever-present in her mind, the unexpected pain that Gaelan had left in her heart was bearable. And once she found Imoen, she would send her away, send them all away and confront Bhaal once and for all. If she lived or died—so be it. But she wouldn't allow it to ruin any more lives.

The clunking of approaching footsteps caused her to tuck the rose by her side, hiding it away. Haer'dalis smiled down at her and offered a steaming cup of some unidentified substance.

"They've brewed something below they call 'coffee', though it looks nothing like what I know coffee to be, but I was told it would chase away unwanted sleep all the same. May I sit?" he asked and she nodded so he gracefully plopped down beside her. "I was in my room thinking about penning the start of your story when I realized I have no idea where to begin. All tales must have a beginning, and would you not agree that your purest beginning was your birth? Therefore…"

"You thought you'd come and ask."

"Precisely." He smiled again. "I know of your father, dear raven, but what of your mother? Are you the mirror's likeness of the fair woman? Where were you born?"

"That's a lot of questions all at once," she said, eyeing him. "Are you worried if you ask one at a time, you'll forget the next question or that I'll get bored and walk off?"

"Perhaps a bit of both," he confessed.

"How about you tell me about yourself, first. You know more of me already than I do of you."

"I offer an exchange, then. A question for a question, an answer for an answer. Anything I ask of you, you may ask of me. Will that satisfy you?"

"All right," she agreed with a grin, "we'll see. But I warn you, I am not easily satisfied."

"We shall see about that, hmm?" His tone dropped to a sensuous purr. "I have been complimented on my talent for satisfaction."

Jayda eyed his sultry stare and narrowed her gaze on him.

"You're being an actor again," she said.

"Am I?" he asked innocently and chuckled. "Forgive me. Let's get back to business, then, shall we? Tell me of the fair woman who brought you into this world, my raven."

"Well, she gave birth to me. That's about all I know." She took a sip of the coffee, which didn't really taste like coffee at all. "Next question?"

"Wait… You never met your mother?"

"No. All I know is that she and Gorion were once lovers, and that's why he took me in when I was just a baby. I never really wondered about her. Gorion was loving and attentive, so I never felt the absence like other children might have."

"Ah, Gorion was your foster father, yes? I have heard scraps of information about him as well." He gave her a look like she wanted him to fill in the blanks.

"He was the only father I ever knew. He only wanted the best for me, even knowing who and what I was. He named me Jayda because jaye in Tvinmir—some ancient language—means calling and da is higher. He told me that I had a higher calling and one day… I would know what that meant." She bit her bottom lip and stared at the ocean. "I thought he was being sentimental…"

"You mourn his passing even still?" Haer'dalis leaned back on his palms and looked skyward as though reflecting on this perplexing development. "'Tis a destiny none of us can escape, but you are no Doomguard, and it seems you loved him well. Thus I cannot fault your sorrow."

"Gee, thanks. Now that I have your permission, you'll excuse me if I go burst into tears."

"Tell me," he began, clearly ignoring her sarcasm, "how did the dear man broach the subject of your divine conception? 'Twould likely be a scene worthy of note in the play that is your life. Were there tears? Anger? Callous sentiment, either genuine or otherwise, flung in distraught disbelief?"

"Really, Haer'dalis, is everything a stage direction or theatrical convention to you? Can you boil the whole universe down to fit into your storytelling formula?"

"A formula invented by mortal consciousness," he told her with a grin.

"I'm afraid my life will disappoint you," she said, finding herself agitated and she wasn't sure why. "There was no fight or tears or callous sentiment. Gorion was murdered before he could tell me the truth. I grew up believing I was normal. I only found out what I was in a letter he'd left behind for me in case something happened to him."

Haer'dalis pushed himself up and leaned closer, frowning.

"Can this be true?" he asked, shocked. "I… Well, I… Forgive me, raven, but… I am baffled."

"I tongue-tied the actor," she mumbled to herself. "I'm amazing."

"The progeny of a dead god as his ward, your young mind so easily bent and shaped by the slightest breeze, yet this Gorion keeps the truth from you?" he surmised. "Astounding! What purpose could such deceit serve? This sparrow is often perplexed by the decisions of Primes, but this particular choice seems to out-measure even the most foolish of common folly."

Jayda clenched her jaw, anger welling in her chest unexpectedly.

"What are you saying? That he should have used me? That it would have been wiser for him to take advantage of my blood?"

"Of course not, my raven."

"He wanted to protect me!" She got to her feet. "By letting me grow up as a normal girl, I think he believed Bhaal would have less hold over me when I did discover the truth. To be fair, it's hardly the kind of thing that would be easy to tell someone. 'How was your day? Oh, by the way, your father was an evil, murdering god. Make sure you eat all your peas, dear.'"

Haer'dalis stood up.

"'Tis a strange sort of protection, if you ask this sparrow—"

"Well, I didn't," she snapped, taking another sip of her hot, watered down drink.

"Do you think he succeeded? In lessening Bhaal's grip on your tender soul, that is."

"Considering the personality of my deceased brother," she shrugged, "I'd have to say he had some success, yes."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps clinging to the belief that his protection served a purpose lessens the guilt of his death for my young raven, hmm?"

Jayda shook her head and started to walk away, too frustrated to talk any longer. She didn't know why she was so angry, but she was and it was beginning to fog her mind.

"You still have a question, my raven," he called after her, calm as could be.

"Just forget it," she mumbled over her shoulder and disappeared below deck.

/

The light blinked in the night, back and forth with precise twitches. A few quick blinks and then some with long pauses between. Jayda watched Saemon with the looking glass, flashing the mirror to some dark shadow in the fog across the sea. She narrowed her gaze and saw another light tinkling in the distance.

"He signals other ships," Sime whispered as she came up beside Jayda. The women shared a look. "He's been doing it every night for a week."

"A warning?"

"Perhaps. But what kind? Does he warn them away from his ship because he fears what they harbor, or does he warn them against some preconceived plot because he fears what _he_ harbors?"

"You think he might have planned something but didn't count on you or my friends coming along."

"It's a sound theory," she murmured. "All contacts refused to make this journey save him. Why? He stands to gain nothing more than any of the others, and yet he barely asked a question. Curious. But then…"

"But then he has a reputation," Jayda concluded. Sime nodded.

"He does and it explains away his behavior well. Behavior is all it is, for he's as smart an actor as your bard friend, I'm sure of it. But I am a Shadow Thief, and I also have a reputation. I will not trust anything or anyone who has not first proved himself an ally…"

Sime met Jayda's eyes and grinned; Jayda grinned back.

"And even then," Jayda finished for her.

"And even then," Sime agreed.

"Have you talked to him?"

"We've exchanged words," she replied, "but he is slippery—almost as slippery as me. And I am not here for him; I am here for you."

"You're here for the Shadow Thieves," Jayda corrected her, "but I appreciate the sentiment."

Sime shrugged one shoulder. Jayda liked that the woman didn't play to any pretenses. It was refreshing to know exactly where one's supposed allies stood.

"Mind if I take a turn?" Jayda asked, motioning toward Saemon.

"By all means. I doubt you could be snared by his charm. But beware. We are, for the moment, stranded in his territory."

Jayda nodded and pushed off of the railing she was leaning against. She narrowed her gaze on Saemon and watched as he finished flashing his secret messages.

"Even if he is leading us to Irenicus by the mage's bidding, he's still speeding me to where I need to be." She looked at Sime. "I've walked into an unusual amount of traps in my short life. If he leads us into one, I feel good about our odds."

Sime smirked and crossed her arms over her chest.

"A feeling we share, Bhaalspawn."

Jayda nodded to the woman and crossed the deck, climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck, and leaned onto the railing next to Saemon.

"Warm night," she said.

"Aye," he agreed, not the least bit startled by her presence; or, if he was, he didn't show it. "Nice breeze, too. Let's hope it lasts, though from the sense of things we might be in for a few dry days. Wind's bending, plus we had a hot sun today. Doesn't always mean a drought, per se, but it's a possibility."

Jayda motioned to the black sea.

"Did your friends tell you all that?" she asked. He smiled.

"Not at all. I thought they might be pirates, so I merely displayed a series of lights that mirrored their kind to appear as one of their own."

"As you have for quite some time. These waters seem pretty infested with pirates."

"They are," he assured her. "It's quite amazing we have yet to be attacked."

"My compliments. It seems they truly believed your signal meant there would be trouble if they attacked."

"It merely proves how short of wit they can be. One must always be a step ahead of their adversaries."

"I agree entirely," Jayda said with a grin, dead-locking her eyes on his. For the first time in their association, Saemon seemed slightly unnerved by what she had said. "You're a pirate, aren't you, Saemon?"

"Well if I agree to it then I might need to relieve my itch for lack of hunting and plunder some treasure." He stepped closer to her and whispered, "In which case, I might have a proposition for you."

"Yes, a proposition for which I saw Jaheira nearly knock your teeth out. Just how hard did that quarterstaff hit your jaw anyway? And before that, Minsc decked you in the face in Aerie's honor. I'd think you would have learned your lesson."

"Well I just thought you'd be more receptive to more enjoyable forms of entertainment considering your… past associations."

"Excuse me?" Jayda asked, frowning.

"Rumors spread quickly, even in such a short time a-port." He bit his lip. "I, of course, inquire about my cargo—alive or inanimate—and was both surprised and intrigued to learn about your delicious relationship with a certain thief in—"

But Jayda did not give him time to finish his thought. She immediately swung to punch him in the face, but his hand flashed up and caught her fist before it could connect with his jaw.

"See?" he murmured sensuously. "I am learning."

Jayda twisted her fist into his chest and elbowed him so hard, he stumbled back and pressed his hand to his tender nose. Blood trickled out onto his palm.

"No," she said. "You really aren't."

Saemon nodded. "I deserved that." He wiped the blood onto his sleeve and sniffed. "Can you blame me? I'm a… _creative_ kind of man, free as the sea, but cooped up on board with a bunch of men, I… I see three beautiful women on deck with the wind in their hair and the spray of the sea on their skin, exotic as any seaman's darkest dream, and I can't help myself. You understand that, don't you?"

"I understand you have a very gifted grasp on language to ferry you in and out of all manner of situation."

"It's true," he confessed. "Does that mean you forgive me?"

"For now," Jayda said with a nod and then smiled at him. "Next time, I'll show you how gifted a grasp I have on my sword."

"Fair. Though, I will have to disappoint you on that one. It seems the ladies aboard this vessel prove more hazardous to my survival than any ship of pirates—and you see the lengths I go to in order to prevent an encounter with them."

Jayda laughed.

"Now, Saemon, you are learning."

He laughed, too, and they continued their talk well into the night.

/

Laughter filled the galley as the crew not posted watch, the captain, and the Galante's guests packed the table and poured grog down their throats. Each of the sailors took turns telling of their adventures on the sea, and each sailor that spoke tried to one-up the last story that had been told. Then came the questions of Jayda and her friends' adventures, leading into another round of drinks in cheers for the "heroes that saved Baldur's Gate".

Once everyone was warm, toasty, and acquainted through accomplishments, the crew felt brave enough to ask questions concerning races. Haer'dalis was first, but he smoothly passed the buck.

"Why you're so interested in this sparrow, I'll never know, when a rare beauty graces our company. One of the lost Avariel, Aerie," he motioned to her, "sits with us this eve."

"Avariel!" one of the sailors gasped.

"The winged elves!" another exclaimed. "I thought they were all gone."

"M-most of us were," Aerie told them, and the entire room went perfectly silent. "Well, according to what I remember my mother telling me, anyway."

"What happened to them?" someone asked.

"Killed by dragons, wasn't they?" another replied.

"Yes. Yes, they were killed by the dragons before the First Flowering. But some of us still survive in isolated place. My own people live high in the mountains to the far south, separated from contact with others." She smiled. "We call it Faenya-Dail."

"What was it like?" another chirped from the back.

"It is… well, _was_ a grand and majestic place. My memory is dim, but… whenever the thought of it crosses my mind, my eyes still blur with tears at its beauty."

"Describe it," someone near her whispered.

"Well," she began, gently folding her delicate fingers together, "our homes were open places of marble pillars and vistas from which you could watch the entire mountain range below. It was endless green and blue in the summer and glorious orange and red in the fall. It was so warm all of the time; even our winters were mild and full of color. It was so open—there was no place you could not spread your wings!"

She smiled brightly, opening her arms at the mention of stretching her wings. The sailors shifted in response, beaming as they became entranced with the idea.

"Like the sea," a sailor said. "Open, bright, spreading our sails and letting the wind take us."

"Exactly," Aerie agreed. "We cherished the wind and the rains. We," she inhaled deeply, "breathed in life and lived in peace with one another."

"Ah, but I've heard of a sect of fighters in the Avariel," Haer'dalis casually mentioned and Aerie nodded excitedly.

"Yes, there were distinct societies among us, as I remember. There were great aerial warriors who defended us, possessing glass weapons that radiated in the sunlight! An-and my own class pursued art and knowledge, building the great buildings and filling them with glorious wonders!" Aerie's exuberant expression suddenly became sorrowful. "It… it was…" A few tears slipped out of her eyes and she shook her head, trying to hide her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, I… I am suddenly homesick, I…"

The sailors rushed to defend their sobbing Avariel princess by passing her ale and encouraging her not to cry. Some of the men confessed they often shed a tear or two when they became homesick for port. One man burst into sobs, declaring he didn't even know where home was! Aerie's tears quickly dried in the chaos of two dozen men crowded around her and trying to cheer her up all at once.

"Yes, my witch," Minsc began somberly, "Boo and I are often homesick. But thanks to you, we will now be able to fulfill our dajemma and see Rashemen again, and we will take you with us to see the far, snowy fields. Though we must find you many thick furs to wear and, perhaps, a beast to ride, for you are very small and might easily be lost—though not as small as Boo—but Boo has fur already."

Aerie smiled. "I'd love to go to Rashemen with you, Minsc."

"A question, my hound and hamster," Haer'dalis suddenly exclaimed. "Why is it that you come into such a rage when we fight? 'Tis as if all the furies of the planes were all at once let loose within your veins!"

"Boo says 'fight hard', so I fight hard," Minsc replied.

"Ah, Boo says that, does he?" Haer'dalis asked with a grin and the crew around him laughed. Minsc just nodded.

"Space hamsters are never wrong!" the ranger declared.

Everyone laughed even harder, save for Jaheira who merely cracked a smile and shook her head. Haer'dalis reached out to her.

"Why do you stare at me so, Jaheira?" he asked. "Have I offended you?"

"No, no, I find your wit a treat, especially when it is unleashed upon the hapless that did not see it laying in wait."

"Then why the glances as my head turns away?"

"You are not of this place, and do not fit into the natural order, at least not by design. I am interested to see where your niche finds itself, wondering what you will balance, as all things have their counterpart."

"Ah." Haer'dalis grinned. "Perhaps I straddle the fence, providing my own balance. Perhaps I drop things on either side as whim dost take me."

"Yes," she sang sarcastically, "or perhaps you enjoy the discord of chaos because you have not found that niche as yet."

The crew chuckled and Haer'dalis just kept smiling. That's when the conversation got turned back onto the topic of home and everyone wanted to know where Haer'dalis hailed from.

"Let us say I am a sparrow of many a home, fluttering as free as the wind. From plane to Prime, Athkatla to Galante, I go where I am wanted, where I must, where I will—as the Muse dost fly, so too do I."

"What a loaded reply," Anomen muttered. "A simple answer will suffice, bard." He looked to the sailors. "I am from Athkatla, born and raised as many of you, I'm sure."

Several raised mugs in salute to their birth city. Anomen returned the gesture and they drank.

"Simplicity is never quite as it is cracked up to be. Wouldn't you say, Jaheira?" Haer'dalis asked and all eyes shifted to the druid. "Regardless of your birthplace, I am sure a woman of nature like yourself finds her home in many locations."

"True," she agreed. "I was born in a city, but I never considered it home. Home, for me, is the wilds of nature—wherever on Faerun I happen to be."

"And what of you, Jayda?" Saemon exclaimed over the hum of noise. "Where is it that you call home?"

"Ah… I don't…" Jayda muttered, shaking her head.

"Come on, tell us!" someone shouted.

"I, you know, I'm a wanderer," she told them.

She wouldn't claim Candlekeep as home, for it had long-since been her home. Baldur's Gate had likewise turned her away. Athkatla? It was never her destination and she had never intended to stay there. But Gaelan was in Athkatla; every morning she woke up in his arms, she felt a sense of familiarity, nostalgia, belonging—like she had beside Gorion. But even if she considered Gaelan her home, which was a ridiculous thought that fully embarrassed her, she could never tell anyone.

"We've heard enough of that nomad business! Give us a real answer!" a pirate told her, jabbing her with his elbow.

Jayda shrugged helplessly.

"Sorry, there isn't really anything to say. I don't have a home."

"Even if it isn't where you were born, there's got to be a place where you feel at home," Saemon said.

"Aye, it's true," a sailor told her. "I was born in a small town just north of Baldur's Gate, but the only home I consider true is the sea."

"Here, here!" the crowd shouted, lifting their mugs to him. When they finished their toast, they looked to Jayda for her response, but she just shrugged again and shook her head. A resounding, "awww" filled the cabin.

"She's being quite uncooperative," Haer'dalis pointed out. "A punishment is in order."

"Aye, an amendable one at that," Saemon agreed. "What do you think, bard?"

"I think our course of action is clear," he said.

"Excuse me, but I'm still in the room," Jayda interjected. "What exactly is it you two fools intend?"

"Why, to give you a home, of course," Saemon said. "You will be confined."

"Imprisonment sounds perfect, don't you agree?" Haer'dalis piped up.

"Oh, really?" Jayda asked. "And where am I to be locked away? I hope someplace with a view."

"No, my dear bard friend meant the _spell_ Imprisonment," Saemon corrected her.

"You will find yourself in a small container a few leagues under the earth," Haer'dalis explained. "Quite peaceful. There you can rethink your attitude toward our revelry and, perhaps next time, you won't be so contrary."

Jayda grinned. "You are welcome to try…"

The crowd riled up at the challenge, laughing and shouting as to where their vote of confidence lay.

"Oh!" Saemon gasped. "Do you think you can take us? The bard and I will make quite a team, I'm sure."

"I can take you," she said as a matter-of-fact, "and more."

"Cocky," Saemon noted. "Self-assured."

"But worthy," Haer'dalis told him. "I have seen the lady fight, and she is quite formidable."

"Who was talking about fighting?" Saemon asked, and another exclamation of approval roared in the cabin. Jayda picked up a half-eaten bread loaf and chucked it at Saemon. "Hey!"

The galley quickly dissolved into more revelry as one of the sailors began playing his lute, encouraging his other musical friends to join in the song. Haer'dalis led them with vocals and started a drunken dance. The chaos stretched over the sharp and dark sea, and the oil burned long that night.

/

The dawn broke on the horizon, outlining the island in the distance. An orange sky bathed the lush greenery in a soft glow. The island might have been considered a pleasant place; from a distance, it seemed beautiful and tropic and welcoming. But a grim shadow extended the length of it. Whenever she looked upon it, Jayda could not help but feel danger and darkness waiting for the ship to dock. The sun rising over the jungle cast shadows over the canopy, giving the illusion of the island opening its leafy maw in anticipation, like a beast waiting to dig its trunk-like fangs into their naïve landing.

Brynnlaw was a trap. There was no doubt in her mind.

The asylum, Spellhold, loomed from a cliff side as the tumor of the island's decline. There originated the sickness and there the grim shadow was cast from. There… was where they were headed.

Sime quietly sidled up next to her and the two women regarded the island apprehensively.

"Saemon says we will reach Brynnlaw by nightfall," Jayda told the thief.

"Mm," she hummed in reply. "I do not trust this pirate, Jayda. His manner is that of a fool, but his behavior during the voyage betrays a cunning mind beneath."

Jayda looked to her bodyguard and nodded her agreement.

"He delivered us as promised," she whispered somberly. "There are more important things to worry about. You'll feel better once you're off the ship."

"Perhaps…" Sime murmured. "But you are right. There is much more to worry about."


	22. Brynnlaw

**Brynnlaw**

The Galante docked well after the sun had set. The city nestled in the cove was alive with the night, but all of the business seemed to be happening indoors, leaving the docks quiet with the exception of the ship crew going about their tasks.

"We have arrived, and in good time, I might add!" Saemon said as his men dropped anchor and threw ropes to the dock posts. He hopped up onto the railing, grabbed a mast line, and raised his voice to address the ship. "Congratulatory remarks for all the crew!" he exclaimed and they responded with a unified shout of 'haa!' Saemon then grinned at Jayda and her companions. "And to our visitors for their," his voice became low and sensuous, "delightful company. It has been a pleasure sailing with you." He gave everyone a lazy salute. "Now, I must take my leave!"

Saemon jumped off the railing and quickly shuffled off to the dock, while the other sailors laughed.

"No doubt to the taverns," one of them growled in amusement.

"Saemon, the wenches ain't going nowhere!" another hollered, and they all laughed again.

Jayda and her friends exchanges glances, hoisted their sacks and equipment, and exited the ship. They were told what was left of their provisions would be sent up to the Vulgar Monkey, the inn in which the Shadow Thieves had sponsored rooms for them.

As they walked the length of the dock and made their way off the landing, they saw Saemon in the distance. Sime was not far, keen eyes watching him closely.

"He looks nervous," she purred when Jayda came near.

"Do you smell that, my raven?" Haer'dalis asked as he took a deep breath. "The salty-sweet perfume of betrayal wafts o'er my face."

"And he seemed so nice," she mumbled sarcastically, adjusting the sack on her shoulders and pushing forward. She nodded to him. "Saemon," she mumbled and moved to pass.

"I fear I cannot allow you to leave my presence just yet," he told her, stepping in her path. His tone was solemn, grave... like he had no pleasure in doing what he had to do; this was not a Saemon Jayda had seen on their voyage at sea, not once. "While I must admit to a certain fondness for you all, I have little choice in what I must do."

Jayda frowned. "Why such an obvious ambush?" she asked quietly.

"My apologies, as I said," was all he could say. "This was not my intention at all, but... one must do what... _good business_ dictates."

Jayda glanced back at Sime and nodded so that she would know they had been betrayed, as expected. No sooner had she done so then the figures appeared out of the darkness.

Three vampires, Valen among them.

"My mistress sends her regards!" she hissed, and they attacked.

The adventurers immediately dropped their sacks and drew their weapons, quickly countering the attacks that came their way. Jayda noticed that in the midst of the chaos, Saemon opened a dimension door and disappeared from the battlefield. She cursed, but had little regret over losing him. He may have been a snake, but it was Bodhi and Irenicus that had given him fangs. Half-hearted fangs.

They made quick work of the fiends on the dock, especially with Sime's help, and soon the corpses were nothing but gas clouds mingling with the fog as the undead made their escape. What made Valen or Bodhi think that such a small number of vampires could harm them? They had decimated Bodhi's lair, fought her to flight, and now they sent... three?

Something wasn't right.

"I knew he would prove treacherous," Sime hissed as the vampires fled. "Our threats were sufficient to keep us safe only while we were afloat."

"But there must be someone here that he fears even more," Haer'dalis concluded. The Shadow Thief nodded.

"These are the same creatures we fought when we entered the lair of the vampire that was aligned against your own guild," Jaheira told Sime and then looked at Jayda. "Bodhi must be nearby."

"Certainly this was Bodhi's doing," Sime said bitterly. "These creatures would not have followed Saemon of their own will. His weakness would disgust them."

Jayda frowned, wondering where Sime's hatred of Saemon stemmed from. If anyone had a reason to despise him, it would be Jayda and her friends... yet Jayda felt no anger toward him or a desire for revenge. Still, Saemon wasn't their concern. Bodhi was. Irenicus was. And most importantly... rescuing Imoen.

"Forget him," Jayda told the group. "I have no fear of him or any scheme he might come up with. He was a pawn, survival his motivation."

"Yes," Sime agreed reluctantly, but once she let go of her hatred, she became entirely focused on their mission. "Go to the Vulgar Monkey as I told you before. A man named Sanik is currently hiding out there—as my sources say. If there is a way in to the asylum, he will know it. I will investigate other matters." She stepped closer to them. "I want to know exactly when Bodhi arrived, what cargo they were carrying, and if there were any slaves or captives with them."

"You think your missing thieves may have been brought here..." Jaheira said. Sime nodded.

"We've scoured Athkatla. If they were capturing our people for a purpose and Bodhi has fled to where Irenicus was taken, then it's likely our men were brought here, too."

"Likely," Jayda agreed. "Good luck. How shall I contact you?"

"I'll find you," Sime told her. "If I do not, proceed without me. Work with haste, Jayda. Our enemies know we are here."

They exchanged nods and then the Shadow Thief departed.

The sandy streets of Brynnlaw were littered with sandstone buildings built on levels and trimmed with blue tiles. The Vulgar Monkey was one tier up from the docks, and sound was near bursting from its windows and walls. Inside, the smell of drunken sailors and the laughter of tavern wenches overwhelmed the senses, but it was a large tavern and there was surprisingly plenty of maneuverability and sightlines. Jayda couldn't help but think about the nights in the Copper Coronet; when it was packed, there was no way to see who was in the tavern unless you stood up on the stairs and scanned the crowd with a keen eye.

Jayda and her companions gathered at the bar and waited for the innkeeper to come over. She asked for Sanik and was pointed to a sad fellow in a green robe in a corner of the room. Jayda tossed a few silver down as thanks, patted Aerie's shoulder, and the two women made their way to where he was sitting.

"W-why me?" Aerie whispered as they cut through the crowd.

"Sympathy," she replied.

"Sorry?"

"Look how nervous and worried he is. He might find me intimidating, but you'll soften that right up."

"Oh," Aerie mumbled, and Jayda glanced over to note how surprised the wingless elf was to understand her involvement.

Sanik eyed them suspiciously as they approached. Jayda smiled disarmingly and, when he laid eyes on Aerie's gentle face, he calmed down and sat upright in his chair.

"Greetings, friends," he said as they took seats. "You must be new to fair Brynnlaw. I am Sanik. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing."

"I'm Jayda and this is my cousin, Aerie," she told him.

"Welcome then," Sanik said and signaled to a serving wench to bring more ale. "There will soon be a vacancy here in town for I intend to leave at the earliest opportunity."

"Ah, I see. Trouble with the law?"

"Merely a... _misunderstanding_ with a local Guildmistress. My new wife and I shall take an extended trip until things settle." He smiled as he stared at the table. "My wife, Claire... we were just married, she and I."

"Congratulations," Aerie chirped happily. "You must be very happy."

"I am!" he agreed with a smile. "We are. She's the very vision of loveliness... and so gentle, my Claire."

Jayda smiled and took a sip from the drink the serving wench sat in front of her.

"That's great," she said quickly. "I was told you might have some information for me."

"For you?" he asked. "But we've only just met."

"That's true, but Sanik was the name and... you're Sanik." She smiled as pleasantly as she could.

"That's me, yes. Well, I suppose it depends on what you wish to know. I am but a simple merchant and trader—"

"You trade with the Asylum?"

"Spellhold? I supply them with their basic needs such as food and spell components." He leaned in to whisper as though his next statement was some big secret. "Some sort of magic is being planned for the place. The orders have recently increased many fold."

"Ah, I see," Jayda murmured as though she were really interested. "You see, I need to get inside and I was hoping you might be able to help me."

Sanik nodded, thrusting his lower lip upward in contemplation. "Perhaps so," he told her, "if the need is true."

"The need is very true," she assured him.

He shrugged and took a swig of his drink. "I suppose there is little to worry about in helping you since I'll be leaving as soon as a ship comes in."

"A ship came in tonight," Jayda told him. "It bore me here, and I can assure it bears you away… Please. Tell me what I need to know."

Sanik studied her thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded. "All right," he agreed.

Suddenly, a bolt whizzed between Jayda and Aerie and struck Sanik in the chest, blood sputtering from his mouth. Jayda tackled Aerie to the ground and glanced back at the throng of people.

"The Lady Galvena sends her greeting!" a rough voice yelled from the crowd.

"Son of a bitch," Jayda hissed as she got to her feet and chased after the assassin. The squat figure ducked through the door and, by the time she got outside, the figure was gone. A loud scream erupted from her lungs as she turned and cold-cocked the door. Pain rippled through her knuckles and forearm but she shook it off.

Cursing, she went back inside and saw Jaheira bent over Sanik and the rest of her companions gathered around. Jaheira looked up and shook her head. Jayda cursed again and, without even thinking, swatted at the nearest chair, sending it crashing into the wall with a loud slap; several patrons glanced over but few seemed interested.

The innkeeper raced over, eyes wide and jaw gaping. "By Umberlee's teat!" he exclaimed. "What's going on here?"

"It seems someone wanted him dead," Jayda told him.

Jaheira backed away from Sanik's corpse so the man could see. He slumped his shoulders regretfully but his expression was tight and appalled.

"Who does Galvena think she is?" he growled. "Assassinations in the Vulgar Monkey? That uppity wench!"

"You know something about this?" Jayda snapped.

"Aye, I know. The assassin was sent by Lady Galvena, the mistress of the local Courtesan's Guild. You can see how, in a port full of sailors, such an undertaking would bring the woman power and wealth."

"So what was her problem with Sanik?" Jaheira wanted to know.

"I think I know," Jayda sighed, remembering the talk about his new wife.

"Sanik, the fool, fell in love with one of Galvena's girls, Claire, and she with him," the innkeeper explained. "He took her from the guildhouse and proclaimed her his wife. But that mistress is a harsh woman. She considers the courtesans her 'property'. She accused Sanik of theft and he scorned her in public. The whole town knows of it." He shrugged and motioned to poor Sanik. "This, then, was Galvena's reply."

"Innkeep," Jayda began, moving close to whisper. "Sanik was my contact here in Brynnlaw. He had information—_important_ information for me, information pertaining to his work. Is there anyone else who might know what he knew, that I might talk to?"

He shrugged. "Well, perhaps he told his young bride. You know Sanik's type—likes to talk. Probably told her everything. I don't see how you can ask her, though."

"Why not?" she asked, and even as the words left her lips, she understood. "Where have they taken her?"

"Likely, the guildhouse. Their main operation comes out a big two-story just down the road. Likely Galvena has her holed up there for punishment, poor girl."

"Is it well-guarded?" Anomen asked, stepping into the conversation.

"Umberlee's teat, it's loaded with guards—well-trained ones, too. I hear rumor that Galvena keeps herself a pet wizard, a finger-wiggler straight out of Spellhold." He shrugged. "Course, you could get in as everyone else does." He smiled. "As a paying customer. Galvena keeps both male and female courtesans, so I doubt you'd have any trouble."

Jayda reluctantly nodded and thanked the man, promising they would haul Sanik out of the inn themselves. Minsc hoisted him up and carried him off while the rest of the group gathered at a free table on the opposite side of the inn.

As her friends talked and a fire raged nearby, Jayda glared at the flickering candle flame on the table. She could already sense the hoops being raised and could hear the torches drawing near. It's not that she didn't feel bad about Claire and her predicament, or any of the other troubled souls she might encounter on the island. But would Brynnlaw become another nightmare of endless flaming hoop-jumping like Athkatla? She was determined not to let it.

Jayda suddenly stood up, pushing her chair away from her with a loud scrape. She pointed at Haer'dalis and motioned for him to follow her.

"You, with me. The rest of you, stay here," she said.

Anomen and Jaheira stood up.

"Where are you going?" the druid asked.

"To figure this thing out," Jayda called over her shoulder as she and Haer'dalis made for the door.

"Are you all right?" the bard asked when they were outside and moving down the quiet street. "You look flustered, my raven."

"I am not going to lose my way into the asylum and to Imoen over whores and their worthless masters," she spat. "We need in that brothel. I'm not exactly the most charming person right now, so now you get to earn your keep and help me find a doxy that will talk."

"Your wish is my command, my raven," he said with a smile.

They took the divide-and-conquer strategy and split up across the docks, but every man or woman that Jayda approached was either too busy with a client, didn't swing her way, or was frightened by the scowl she couldn't seem to get rid of.

Finally, Jayda spied a male courtesan whose face she'd yet to encounter. He wasn't tall and sturdy like the others; he was thin, short, almost feminine. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to work the frown out of her eyes; she tried to smile, but it just wasn't happening. So she pressed forward and was surprised when he turned to her and tipped his head in her direction.

"A fine day to ye, pretty lady," he began with a smile. "Would ye care for a decent night o' pleasure in me arms? 'Tis only a meager cost, for so much, aye?"

So much? She was quite sure her arms were bigger than his.

"Actually, I'm looking for a girl named Claire," Jayda said when she'd pulled him away from the crowds. "Perhaps you know her?"

He was suddenly nervous and reluctantly nodded. "Aye, I know who you're talking about, miss." The slum drawl was gone with his faux charm. He was just a normal man now. "But I'm not one to go on gabbing about things I shouldn't. Miss Galvena wouldn't permit it."

"Galvena doesn't need to know you've said anything," Jayda told him.

"You aren't a client, are you?" he whispered. She shook her head. He glanced around and then nodded vigorously. "All right, I'll tell you what you want to know. Sune knows it's an awful thing Miss Galvena's done to the lass. Claire's boyo was determined to take her away, see? I don't know what she saw in him, daft girl; I like my men more like the ones we have around here. Big and all muscle. Her boyo was all string and chatty. But I'll give him points for balls; he certainly had some. He told off Galvena, said he was taking Claire to a better place and that was all there was to it!" The courtesan scoffed. "I'd own the mistress herself if I got a copper for every time I heard that one. Poor Claire believed him, too… believed Galvena might not do anything about it. Silly lass…"

"Why?"

"Miss Galvena won't let any of us go," he said solemnly, then sighed. "Claire waited outside the guildhouse for her boyo for hours before she took Claire inside and locked her up. That's when we knew ole Sanik was done for."

"I saw," she told him. The courtesan shook his head regrettably. "I need to have a chat with Claire. There isn't a way I could speak with her, is there?"

"Claire's in the dungeons, poor girl."

"So I need to get into the dungeon…"

"You need to get your head examined!" he exclaimed. "You'd have to get into the house, get passed Galvena's guards, and hope you didn't run into the witch herself while you're down there."

"Can't you help me get in? As a client?"

"Sune's garter, no!" he hissed. "I don't want to get involved. You start wandering around where you're not supposed to, and they're going to want to know whose responsible for you. That's me! Then they'll come for my head! This may not be an ideal life, but I'm a princess when I want to be."

"Is there no other way?" Jayda asked, gritting her teeth. She had no qualm with him, but, by the gods, if he didn't stop flaring sass and help her out, she was going to use his head to make a door into the guildhall.

The courtesan thought for a minute, chewing on his lip and tapping his nose with his finger. Suddenly, a light came on behind his eyes.

"If you want to walk around the guildhouse, you'll need a medallion. All of Galvena's courtesan masters wear them—it's how the guards recognize them."

"Wouldn't they know I wasn't one of the masters, medallion or not?"

"Pfft, the mistress is always hiring new masters. All the time. You could bluff your way past the guards if you had a medallion."

"So how do I get one?"

"Aye, now, that's tough." He started thinking again.

Jayda's fists clenched and she barely resisted decking him. He suggested a plan to her he wasn't sure how to execute? She wanted to scream! Luckily, Haer'dalis was at her side in the next moment, gently holding her shoulders and smiling at the young courtesan.

"Good evening," he said with all the charm of an actor.

The courtesan looked him over appreciatively and opened his mouth to proposition him, no doubt, but Jayda shut him up.

"He's with me. The medallion?"

Disappointed, the courtesan nodded. "Most of the masters mostly stay in the house, but there is one who seems to be out and about more often than not. Chremy. You could get one off him."

"Chremy?" Jayda echoed, barely containing her impatience.

"Ugh, one of the cruelest masters, he is." The courtesan shivered dramatically. "I hear he's been watching the new lass, Ginia, like a hawk and hits her every time she so much as flinches, poor girl. He doesn't trust her a wink, and she hasn't even done anything wrong."

"Where can I find him?"

"Follow the noise and the smell of liquor," he muttered and rolled his eyes. "The drunk's probably outside the Vulgar Monkey, barking at everyone who passes by."

"Thank you," Jayda said with a nod and started to walk off.

"Wait, wait!" the courtesan called. "If you get it, come back to me, all right? I'll tell you if it's the right one. Never know how much jewelry a nasher like Chremy'll have, aye?"

Jayda was surprised at his foresight and managed a smile of her own.

"Thank you," she said again, more sincerely this time. "We'll be back when we find it."

As they headed back toward the tavern, Haer'dalis asked her what that had been all about, but she refused to answer, promising to explain when they were back inside. When the tavern was in sight, she paused, frowning at a tall figure stumbling around and harassing passer-bys.

"One second," she mumbled to the bard and approached the fool.

"Ay! You!" he hollered at her as she approached. "What do you think you're looking at? Huh?"

"Chremy?" she asked.

"Aye!" He smirked. "You looking for ole Chremy? You want a piece of this? I'll do you—"

But before he could finish, she punched him so hard in the face that he turned one-hundred and eighty degrees and then fell flat on his face. She jerked him over, fished through his pockets, and withdrew the only item that looked like a medallion. She met Haer'dalis by the door and motioned inside.

"The frightening thing is," he began, "is that I'm starting to view this behavior as normal."

She patted his shoulder as she passed. "Good. It'll make the process easier."

When they were seated with the group again, Jayda filled them all in on what the courtesan had told her and showed them the medallion.

"Yes, but how are we going to convince them you're a master?" Jaheira asked, examining the gold jewelry. "You don't know anything about the trade, and you have no slaves."

"Oh, I believe I have a solution to that," Haer'dalis said with a grin. The others eyed him warily.


	23. Come Into My Parlor

**Come Into My Parlor**

When Jayda descended the steps to the main floor of the Vulgar Monkey, she instantly felt a dozen pairs of eyes on her. She felt her eyebrow twitch but pressed forward, regardless of the embarrassment she was suffering. Haer'dalis' plan was good, and she couldn't think of anything better. Anomen had protested with utter conviction but Jayda was only interested in one thing: saving Imoen; her dignity would have to take the blow.

She was dressed in the scandalous costuming of a courtesan, with make-up on her face and jewels in her hair. It was so much what she was wearing, but the lack of clothing that made her uncomfortable. Her shoulders were exposed, breasts spilling out the top of a corset tight too tied, legs showing through a hiked skirt already too short; the layers in the back made her rear feel too wide for the door. She had managed to tuck two daggers under the bodice and disguised the handles as ornaments on her belt by tying sashes around them and letting them dangle to her knees. Thank Mask she had real boots on.

For a moment, she wondered what Gaelan would think if she saw her in such a getup. And then she stifled a smile, knowing full well what his reaction would be: to take it off of her.

"I can't imagine the woman you conned out of this outfit," Jayda mumbled to Haer'dalis as she walked by.

"I can promise you, my raven, that she was not nearly as stunning as you are."

"I can promise you, sparrow, not nearly as deadly."

"Oh, but that's part of your charm," he murmured in her ear.

Jayda flashed him a look but he only smiled, and she thought he was enjoying this all far too much. He motioned to the door and she obliged. He led her through the streets, dressed as her master. When they passed her male courtesan contact, Haer'dalis flashed him the medallion and he nodded indiscriminately. So they entered the guild house.

The vestibule contained only one person, the front man, and he smiled brightly at them.

"Welcome to Lady Galvena's Parlor. How may I serve you?"

"Serve me?" Haer'dalis balked and immediately shoved the medallion in the front man's face. "You can quit with the pleasantries and open the back door. Every second I have to waste here is gold not added to my coffers."

"My apologies, sir, I didn't recognize the new master."

"You wouldn't, would you?" Haer'dalis sneered. "But you would recognize fresh meat when you see it." He motioned to Jayda. "Now why are you still standing there. Are you disabled as you are dim? Open the door!"

The front man rolled his eyes and hurried to the only door. He quickly unlocked it and stood aside.

"Take the stairs on your left and find the guards," he instructed them. "Galvena will see you when she's ready."

Haer'dalis huffed and shouldered him as they entered. Jayda kept her head low, noting the front man's scowl of frustration. The hallway they entered was a long corridor of wooden walls and doors. At the end, the hallway turned left and right, and Jayda had the sinking feeling they were stepping into a maze.

Haer'dalis smiled as the door slammed closed behind them.

"Touchy fellow, don't you think, raven?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "All in your head."

"Well, we've made it this far," Haer'dalis continued seriously and in a hushed tone as they slowly wandered the halls, looking as lost as they actually were; they had taken a left as instructed, but there were no stairs to greet them. "Let's hope this luck of yours continues."

"Luck?" Jayda echoed bitterly. "What luck? Knowing my luck, Imoen's living in Thay with her own personal harem, Irenicus has crowned himself King of the Nine Hells, and we're walking into a trap. I'll be shocked if the brothel is really a brothel and the courtesans not drow spies planning an invasion party. This, sparrow, was not luck—not my luck, at any rate. This was a good plan—your plan."

Haer'dalis stopped to eye her thoughtfully, a bemused smirk on the corner of his lips.

"You should write these ramblings down, my raven, for they are as outlandish as they are amusing. Though that does sound remarkably like the sort of thing that would happen in this madness you call your life." He suddenly smiled affectionately and gently bumped her shoulder with his. "I wouldn't have it any other way, you know," he whispered.

"…you might not," she mumbled, "but I wouldn't mind something going according to plan for once."

"And it has!"

"So far. We've got a whole brothel for something to go wrong."

"You sound bitter, my raven."

As they turned another corner, a group of courtesans and drunken patrons, all laughing and stumbling, passed by them. Haer'dalis shoved her to the side and she kept her head down respectfully. One of the men reached out to her, eyes round as quarters and a goofy smile nearly ear-to-ear. Before he could make contact, the bard suddenly snatched his wrist up and gave him a warning glare.

"The lady Raven is not yet one of Galvena's girls," he said darkly. "You will not touch her as long as she is still mine."

The man looked like he was prepared to argue but thought better of it and backed off. She had to applaud the bard's quick thinking; she had been two seconds away from breaking the drunkard's face. Jayda was suddenly glad he had insisted on coming along. Anyone else would've blown their cover already. His declaration also made her feel more at ease; it was nice to know that under all of Haer'dalis' flirtation and exaggeration, he intended to protect her.

As soon as the group passed, Jayda and her escort continued their journey, soon finding some stairs and guards. They descended without trouble and found themselves in another long corridor, this time constructed of stone and wooden support beams. It was cold and dank—most definitely dungeon quality. There were no guards posted in the hall so they quickly began their search for the cells.

"Is there any truth to it?" Haer'dalis suddenly asked her.

"To what?"

"Your bitterness."

Jayda sighed. "I'm not bitter. Only… not a thing seems to ever go right for me. In the end, I suppose others' problems are resolved, but not after blunder over bungle. Looking back at my life, I've yet to embark on a voyage of smooth sailing, especially when I am captain."

"My raven—"

"Okay, so I'm bitter," she confessed before he could correct her.

They turned a corner and found two guards posted in front of iron bars. As they approached, one of the uglier ones stepped forward to meet them.

"Hold it right there," he commanded.

"Let us pass," Haer'dalis snapped.

"Who do you think you are walking about the Lady's place as if you own it?" the guard growled in disgust.

"I'm a new master of this house and this feisty songbird is the Lady Raven," he replied, flashing the medallion.

The guard considered the metal sphere and then the bard and then Jayda. He still seemed suspicious of them.

"I haven't heard anything about a new employee coming in," he began and glanced over his shoulder. "Have you?"

"Not a word," the other guard chimed.

"Fools!" Jayda hissed. "You know as well as I that the Lady does not tell you of all her affairs."

"Well, I… I guess not—" the guard stammered, caught off guard.

"You guess? You presume to know the Lady's affairs, and now to know her mind, do you?"

"Of course not—"

"Are you more than just a guard, then? Are you elevating your status to be the equal of your fair patron?"

"I'd never—"

"Good. Then stand down and let us pass or I'll have the lady punish you."

"Yes, uh… ma'am?" the guard almost squeaked.

He and his partner moved to the side with eyes as round as coins. Jayda bowed her head as she and Haer'dalis passed by; she brushed close to the guard by the door and filched his keys from his belt. Once they were safely in the stockade with the door closed behind them, Jayda felt the bard's eyes on her and she met his gaze.

"That was quite the performance."

"They were letting us through or I was knifing their throats. Every second I waste on courtesies for a whorehouse are seconds lost on Imoen's life."

Haer'dalis narrowed his eyes on her and it made her uncomfortable, as though he were sizing her up, seeing something she did not. She thought about calling him out, but before she opened her mouth, she realized just how angry she was. It had crept up on her without her even knowing, and her lungs burned hot with frustration. She cursed her sudden anger, stuffing it down and pressing forward.

"Check over there," she said, motioning to the cells on the left. "I'll look this way."

And so they split up. Jayda hurried from one barred door to the next one, peering into mostly empty chambers. She heard whimpering in the back and, when she looked, a pair of terrified eyes spied her behind scraggly blond hair. Jayda darted toward her and put her fingers through the bars.

"Claire?"

"Who are you?" the frail woman whimpered, ragged from abuse.

"You are Claire?" she asked and the woman nodded, grimacing in fear.

"P-please," she sobbed, "don't hurt me!"

Jayda plugged one of the keys into the lock and tried to open the cell, but it did not turn; she picked out another key and tried them until she felt the bolt turn, all the while trying to assure Claire that she meant her no harm.

"I'm here to help you," Jayda said as she reached in and pulled the woman out, threw her arm around her shoulders, and attempted to walk her toward the exit.

"Help me?" Her confusion was quickly replaced by bright hope. "Did Sanik send you? Bless him! Bless _you_! Please, take me to him!"

"I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere," a woman's voice said as they rounded the corner. They stopped dead in their tracks, staring at a woman who could only be Lady Galvena, a robed lackey at her side and two guards behind her. "This foolish attempt at a rescue will only make your suffering worse before the end. You shall be made an example of as was made of your… 'husband'."

"A-an example?" Claire gasped, terrified.

Galvena smiled. "Your Sanik is _dead_, and as such a sentence of death has been imposed on you."

Claire cried out and crumbled to her knees, nearly dragging Jayda down with her. Galvena laughed from deep within her gut. Jayda's jaw clenched, anger stirring inside of her once more. She glimpsed Haer'dalis behind the guards, peering at her with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"No… why… why!" Claire sobbed. "P-please, I have served you for years! Why could you not let me go? _Why_!" The girl shrieked and leapt up, hands poised like claws as she lunged for Galvena's throat. Jayda pulled her back. "Why! Why!"

That was the moment when Galvena seemed to first notice Jayda's presence. The lackey at her side grinned and touched the guildmistress' shoulder.

"Galvena, we have a guest," he murmured, amused.

"So we do," she said quietly. "And who are you, woman? How did you get past my useless guards?"

"Useless, as you said," Jayda replied.

"And what is it you want with my property? You have no claim on her."

"People are not property." But even as she said it, Galvena scoffed. Jayda was quickly losing her patience. "I am taking Claire out of here. Stand aside and you shall live."

Galvena and her lackey laughed.

"How bold!" the mistress exclaimed. "Vadek, what do you make of this?"

"Arrogance is a common trait," the lackey replied, eyeing Jayda, "among the dregs of adventuring. She may look a whore, but she has the gait of a charlatan."

"Well put!" his mistress said with a smile. "I would say a lesson in humility is in order. Vadek… begin the lesson."

"No!" Claire screamed, but Vadek was already rolling up his sleeves.

"With pleasure!" he hissed, and the glow of magic bloomed at his fingertips.

Jayda pushed Claire to the side of the room and dodged the energy force that exploded where she'd been standing. The guards unsheathed their swords and started toward her. She jumped against the wall and rebounded off of it, tackling one of the guards to the ground. She rolled away and was back on her feet just as Haer'dalis came crashing down on the second guard. Galvena scurried out of the fight, surprised by the second intruder, while Vadek turned his magical attentions on the tiefling.

Jayda ripped her daggers from the bodice and hacked away at the guard's armor, driving him backward. She knew she could not penetrate the metal, but she wanted to keep him from gaining his bearings. He swung wildly, trying to push her away for even a moment, but she came in relentlessly. Every time he thought he had gained a moment's peace, he was attacked from another side and forced to defend himself.

Once she had the guard's clumsy swings away from Claire, Jayda allowed herself to focus on the kill. She glimpsed the chinks in his shoddy armor—at the openings where his mail shirt was loosely tied, obviously not made for him, and the half-moon bracers that left his inner forearm exposed.

Knowing her aim, she charged into him, sweeping his arms out of the way with powerful strikes. Her dagger hooked his sword and flung it away while her other dagger sunk into his forearm and stuck bone as she shoved his other arm away from her. He screamed so loud, she didn't hear the sword clatter to the floor. Then, her free dagger found its mark and plunged into his side. She brought the other dagger into his other side and watched him shake and spit blood until the life left his eyes.

Haer'dalis made quick work of the surprised second guard and dodged another magical attack, spinning gracefully on his toes. He latched onto Galvena's arms, using her as a momentary shield as he crossed the room; she yelped, terrified, as Vadek's nearly let loose another spell. He drew back the magical force, singing his fingertips in the process, giving Haer'dalis just enough time to dart in for the kill.

"You are as clumsy as you are cold," the bard told the lame magician, and then he cut his throat. When he turned to face Jayda, she was ripping her daggers from the fallen guard's sides; he crumbled to the ground in a heap.

She slung the blood from the knives and sheathed them in her bodice, then she went to Claire and brought the girl to her feet.

"Are you all right?" Jayda asked her. The girl nodded, wide-eyed, and so they began to move toward the exit.

Galvena was standing in their way, frozen to the spot in terror, and Jayda thought it must've been the last of her sanity breaking to illicit bravery enough to make this woman think she could stop her. Pale as a ghost, Galvena said nothing, just stared with frightened defiance. Jayda yanked one of her daggers from the bodice and pressed it so tight against Galvena's throat that a red line appeared across her neck.

"I am taking this girl out of here. You will move," Jayda said, "or I will kill you. And if you trouble me with your other guards, I will kill them, too, and free your girls, and all the property left to your name will be this empty building and a pile of corpses."

The woman gave a shaky nod and, when the dagger was withdrawn, immediately stepped out of Jayda's way. Haer'dalis joined them as they left. He said nothing, but his countenance spoke volumes. He was confused by her. She didn't know why. She had yet to understand his views; a bard, an actor—yes—but also not of the Prime, and she was often lost in translation when he got around to discussing morality and philosophy. And in spite of his declarations that 'the Primes were so confusing', he seemed to understand them, and her, better than they understood themselves. So what had confused him now?

Jayda made a mental not to ask him if he didn't reveal his bewilderment on his own.

"Is Sanik really dead?" the girl choked out. Jayda only nodded, and the girl sobbed into her hands.

Eyes watched them as Jayda led Claire away from the brothel and into the night. Some were frightened, some had jaws slack in disbelief, and others glared in jealousy; some nodded respectfully. The male courtesan who had given up the information about the medallion smiled with relief.

"Claire," Jayda began once they were far from the ears of others. The girl looked up at her with quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. "You know that Sanik supplied Spellhold, yes?"

"Yes." She bravely swiped at her tears, sensing the importance of what was to be said.

"Before he died, he was going to tell me how to get in to the asylum."

"H-he knew something of its secrets, I'm sure," Claire nodded, "but I was frightened of the wizards and didn't want to know. I've no idea how to get inside."

"Damn," Jayda cursed, feeling the rage building up inside of her like a hot fire. Had all of this been a waste of time? Was all of it a waste of effort? Was Imoen forever beyond her grasp? No, she would storm the walls if she had to!

"But," Claire said, pulling Jayda out of her anger. "The local guard captain, Golin… he and Sanik were friends—friends long before I ever met Sanik. The guards in Byrnnlaw are useless and false, that's true, but Golin is a good man. He might help you."

"Good," Jayda said, feeling hope extinguishing the fury. "Good, take us to him."

"Of course."

Claire led them across the town to a small hole-in-the-wall home nearest the port. Her knuckles rapped the door three times. It slid open just a crack at first and then was thrown wide. An older man opened his arms wide and embraced her.

"Claire!" he exclaimed. "You're all right! I searched for you the moment I heard Sanik had been murdered, but Galvena already had you. I prayed to the gods to deliver you."

"And they answered your prayers," she replied, looking back at Jayda over the bulky arms of Golin's hug. "They saved me, this woman and man."

Haer'dalis gave a bow as though he had reached the end of a performance.

"We are in your debt," Golin said, reaching out to shake both of their hands. "Thank you, friends, for saving her. Is there anything I can do to repay you? If Sanik was still alive, he'd pay any price, and so I will, too."

"The girl deserved a better life," Jayda told him. "Galvena is a woman of no small evil. I'm glad I could do something."

"That is true, but we are indebted to you. Please, isn't there something I could do?"

"I need only information, if you have it," Jayda replied.

"Of course, anything."

"I need to get into the Asylum. Sanik promised me a way, but Galvena got to him before he could tell me."

"Spellhold?" Golin balked. "Well now, I'm sure you wouldn't want to go there. People that go in don't usually come back out again. It's a dangerous place—"

"Trust me when I said this," Jayda began seriously, "I must go in. Now if you know the way, tell it, or I'll be off."

Golin nodded. "So be it. Sanik never told me how to get in, but I'll say what I know. Only two kinds of people go in: Cowled Wizards and deviants—you know, people with special conditions of the mind."

"I know that much."

"Well, you see, most of the Cowled Wizards stay there in Spellhold, except for the representatives sent out to towns and cities. We got one here, too, a man lost on duty and their rigid discipline—this place doesn't suit it, really. His name is Perth, a pompous rat of a fellow, and I see him freely come and go from Spellhold all he wants. Uses a ward stone to pass the gates, I think."

Haer'dalis and Jayda exchanged glances.

"We might… _convince_ him to give it up," the bard told her, and they looked to Golin for confirmation.

"He might take a bribe," the guard captain said, "but I don't know for sure."

"Likely any meeting with a Cowled Wizard will end in violence," Jayda muttered, a bitter taste in her mouth. And if we fight the wizards on their doorstep, we'll be sure to attract attention."

"What about the deviants?" Golin asked. "On the mainland, you'd have to cause one heck of a magical disturbance, and if you survived the Cowled Wizard reprisal, you'd be sent to Spellhold. But here on the isle itself, things don't work like that. Desharik's in control of who gets sent in and why. He doesn't care about magic; he dumps his enemies there."

"Sometimes friends, too," Claire interjected bitterly.

"Wait, Desharik—who is he?"

"The lord of Brynnlaw, so he claims, but he's nothing but a bloody pirate," Golin explained. "Has a taste for the brothels, too; that's why Galvena's allowed to do as she pleases. But he's powerful, and he's got this town in his grip. Prove to be unstable and he might send you there, though doubtless that's the way you'd want to go. Still, it's a way in."

Jayda and Haer'dalis exchanged glances once more.

"Thank you, that's all I needed to know." Jayda nodded to them both. One she got the addresses of the pirate and the wizard, she said, "Good luck, Claire. To you both."

And they departed. Back at the Vulgar Monkey, Jayda and Haer'dalis found the others and, once ale had been poured and dinner served, recounted all they had learned.

"I agree," Jaheira declared. "Confronting the Cowled Wizard can only provoke the rest from their nest. We should avoid the lot of them at all costs."

"And a pirate lord is a better option?" Anomen asked.

"A no doubt drunk pirate lord, arrogant, cocksure, base, and dim. Men such as him may be manipulated," she replied.

"I still don't like it."

"You have liked very little on this trip, knight," Jaheira scolded him, "and yet we have achieved something out of nothing."

"We need to work together," Jayda reminded them all. "We have no time for squabbling. Jaheira has a point—meddling with the Wizards now is too dangerous."

"Will Desharik even listen to us?" Aerie piped up.

"That is a good question," Jayda mumbled. "I don't know."

"We cannot simply say, 'we've come to rescue a lady from the asylum, please put us through'," Anomen said. "Though he might throw us in for the asking, if we're dull enough to do it."

"Can he be bought?" Jaheira wanted to know.

"Doubtless he's a man who can be bribed; he'll take what he wants if he thinks he has the power to do it."

"Golin did say he had a taste for the brothels," Haer'dalis pointed out. "It worked once, it could work again. Go to him as one of Galvena's girls—a new delight, sent as a gift."

"You could not come with me this time," Jayda reminded him.

"No… but another could. A guardian." He glanced around the table. "The dane would not do—he would give himself away. Perhaps someone more… outlandish." His gaze fell on Minsc. "An exotic warrior, if not slower in his faculties but sturdy with his blade, would accompany his foreign charge as protection on any and every excursion."

"I do not like it," Anomen said again, but this time he was very serious. He looked right at her with eyes that pleaded with her, and said, "I do not like this. Do not do it."

"It is a plan," Jaheira said slowly, "though I might be inclined to agree with Anomen. Putting yourself at risk like this is not a wise move. You cannot go in armed, not like in the brothel. They will surely check for weapons, and I'm sure this pirate lord will have guards of his own."

"And will those guards stop Minsc?" Jayda wanted to know. "I am not defenseless, Jaheira."

"If he takes you someplace private? How will you refuse without giving yourself away?"

"If we go in armed, how then would we gain an audience? Aerie is right. He would not listen to us." She shifted in her chair. "We agree that confronting the wizard would be too risky. Isn't this the best way?"

"Is it?" Jaheira challenged her. Jayda leaned back and regarded the druid.

"Maybe not. But it might be the only way."

"It can't be," Anomen insisted. Jaheira held out her arm to quiet him but her gaze never left Jayda's.

"I hope you know what you're doing. You cannot know what he will require of you, what payment he might demand and then forsake you."

"I've come too far to let that happen," Jayda said darkly.

"And say you are right. He attacks you, you defend yourself, and then we have the whole of the pirate clan to contend with. Surely that will draw the attention of the Cowled, don't you think? Then what?"

Jayda suddenly stood up, her chair loudly scraping the ground. Aerie gasped in shock.

"What would you have me do?" she exclaimed, and everyone flinched away from her anger. The druid just stared at her in utter surprise. "You are too hard on Anomen, woman; you agree with nothing either, and offer no solutions in return!" She looked around at all of them. "I have come _too far_! Imoen is behind those walls, and if I do not get inside of them, she will die!"

"Jayda, she didn't mean—" Aerie began, but Haer'dalis put a hand on her shoulder to shush her.

"Think of what you are saying!" Jaheira shot back, standing. "He _wants_ you to come to him. He has always wanted you to come, you know this!"

"I know!" she screamed, drawing the eyes of a few strangers. "I know…" she muttered, breath shaky in her outburst, adrenaline pumping through her limbs. "And you have always known I'd go." She nodded to Minsc as she yanked the daggers out of her bodice and dropped them on the table. "I have no time to wait. We go tonight."

"Patience, my raven—"

"I am out of patience," she snapped, clenching her fists in an effort to control herself. Why was she so angry? Why was she screaming at the people who wanted to help her? Why did she feel so heavy? "Minsc," she called, and the Rashemi followed her to the door.


	24. The Pirate Lord

**The Pirate Lord**

When Jayda found herself standing in Desharik's receiving room, she felt a mixture of confidence that the plan had worked and apprehension that it would fail. The pirate lord had been ready and willing to accept Galvena's gift, but the guards were burly and sharply armed. The receiving room, fortunately, was spare of anyone save for Minsc by the door and Jayda pacing near the fireplace.

A door on the far side of the room opened and Desharik finally joined them. He was nearly as tall as Minsc with muscles almost as big. His body was scarred and face brutish. He grinned when he saw her.

"Galvena's taste has shifted," he observed, surprisingly well-spoken for someone who resembled a thug. "You may be dressed like a whore, but you got the look of a fighter in you." He laughed. "No whore I ever knew had a body cut with strength."

Jayda smiled and shrugged. Desharik laughed again and walked over to her, eyes roving over her form. She remembered Mae'Var and how he had made her feel. Desharik wasn't a tenth as creepy as he had been. Jayda cast her mind into the past, remembered Gaelan and the way he looked at her, how it felt when he held her. It was a comforting reminder and she felt protected by it.

"Whose this?" Desharik asked, glancing over her shoulder at Minsc.

"My protector," she replied with a hint of an accent, still playing the part of a foreign courtesan. "There are big, scary men in the world and, no matter what you say, I am just a little girl."

"I'm one of those big, scary men… It's the men who have business with you, little girl," he reminded her.

"This little girl has a price, and then my business is their business."

"And what is your price?"

Jayda smiled. Dressing like a courtesan had been merely to get her past Desharik's door. Now, she hoped she could negotiate with him. He was well-spoken, more so than she had expected, and that gave her hope he was a likewise intelligent man.

"An exchange of services," she replied.

Desharik smirked and motioned Minsc away. The Rashemi looked to Jayda. Reluctantly, she nodded that he could go; he was hesitant, but eventually he departed. The pirate stepped closer to Jayda and deeply inhaled. She flinched away.

"Mm, you've got the spice of the guild on you," he growled, eyes flashing hungrily.

In a moment, Jayda realized she was being stalked. For every step she took away from him, he took one toward her. His whole countenance had changed from being an intrigued business man to a lusty hunter on the prowl. She glanced around her but there were no weapons nearby.

"Are you frightened, little girl?" Desharik asked her. He was enjoying the game, the cat-and-mouse chase. Jayda frowned and knew she had to take a stand or she would lose him in his desire.

Jayda stopped in her tracks. "If that's how like you it, frightened I'll be," she told him. "But first, we discuss my price."

"Your price," he mused, as though it were a joke. He leaned into her, his face dipping toward her neck. "And what is your price?"

Jayda went perfectly still. Something in his voice told her that he was toying with her. He wasn't asking seriously or even out of curiosity. He was brushing her off, setting her up for rejection. Jayda's own words ran through her mind: he'll take what he wants if he thinks he has the power to do it.

"Two-thousand," she mumbled. Desharik laughed.

Suddenly, his hand tightened around her throat and his body forced her against the wall.

"I don't pay for gifts," he growled into her ear, "or for whores."

And then his burly hand was pawing at her corset. He forced his knee between her thighs, still holding her throat, and his lips began roving over the side of her face. Jayda filled with fury and, this time, she did not fight or question it.

She used her back against the wall as leverage and twisted her hips up, bringing her knee straight into his stomach; his abdomen felt like iron. He didn't reel as expected, but it was enough of a blow to make him lean back and look at her in surprise. She immediately punched him in the temple and, when he released her, she landed a kick to his face and then made a break for the door.

Desharik did not seem deterred. In fact, he laughed and tumbled after her. She felt his burly arms wrap around her from behind and lift her over his head. Jayda grunted when she landed on the coffee table and rolled away before he came down on top of her. His hand caught her ankle and dragged her back. She kicked and flailed but he was still somehow able to straight her on the table and pin her against the wood.

"I enjoy a fight!" he hissed. He bit into her chest hard and used his teeth to rip at her shirt. She started to open her mouth to scream but his paw clamped down hard over her lips. His free hand ripped her corset open easily.

Jayda felt fear bloom inside of her, felt it spread to every limb. Her mortality came crashing back into memory. She hadn't been this helpless since Sarevok had nearly killed her, since she was lying in the mud, bleeding and barely conscious, watching as Gorion was murdered.

Jayda screamed into his palm, seeing Sarevok's eyes through the slit in his helmet as he glared down at her. He was drawing the hooked blade, raising it. She was paralyzed. _Move!_

Suddenly, she began kneeing at Desharik's side until he leaned far enough up then she smashed his face with her shoulder until she had room to roll away from him.

"Minsc!" she screamed, barely recognizing the terror in her own voice.

Desharik dove onto her again and she tried to scramble away. Blood trickled from his lip and furious lust gleamed in his eyes. Jayda kicked away from him, tossed the corset in his face, and kicked at him; her heel connected with his nose. He swiped the material away and, when he tackled her, she planted her foot firmly into his groin. The pirate roared and reared back, giving her room to get away. She kicked again, feeling the hard length of his arousal crumple against his body. She kneed him in the face and he toppled onto his back, rolling on the ground in agony.

"Minsc!" she exclaimed again, backing away.

Desharik, trembling, rose from the floor. His face was red and purple with rage, his limbs shaking in pain and anger. There was murder in his eyes as he took the first steps toward her. And then a tall silhouette appeared behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. The pirate whirled around. His glare became shock as he stared into the face of Jayda's Rashemi protector.

With a fist like steel, Minsc decked the pirate in the face, knocking him back onto the ground. He picked him up by the collar and hit him again. He picked him up, punched him to the ground, again and again and again. When Desharik's face was bloody and bruised, Minsc wrapped his arms around him, lifted him over his head, and smashed him into the ground.

The pirate lolled on the floor, unconscious.

When Minsc met Jayda's gaze, she crumbled to the ground, wrapped her arms around herself, and started crying. He was there in a moment, scooping her up as though she were a princess in need of rescuing.

"I'm okay," she told him, even as tears were falling down her cheeks. "Minsc," she mumbled, hugging his neck. "Minsc. Minsc." She couldn't stop calling his name, as though he would disappear and she would be left alone with Desharik if she didn't. "Minsc."

He hugged her back and nodded that he understood.

"We would never let anyone hurt you," he said, and she felt the tiny nuzzling of a rodent on her shoulder. It made her want to cry even more, but a door banging open stopped the tears.

"What's going on here?" one of Desharik's men yelled. When he noticed Desharik lying on the ground, he immediately pulled his sword and shouted for the other guards.

Minsc stood up and drew Lilarcor while Jayda darted for the exit. She slipped into the hallway, saw a man running toward her, and ducked into an alcove. Before he could swing into the receiving room, Jayda lashed out and used her hand to clothesline his throat. He choked and fell onto his back. She kicked him hard in the face, checked to see if anymore were coming, and then called for Minsc.

The Rashemi came soon after and Lilarcor was singing battle songs, wet with red. They rushed through the corridors, tracing the path back out, and ducked out into the night. The rumble of guards rallying drew closer and Jayda knew they would need a distraction. She could disappear into the shadows easily, but Minsc… he would need a bigger shadow than what the night provided.

Suddenly her gaze landed on the glass lamps on either side of the front door. The house was made mostly of wood—a symbol of the pirate lord's power; it was mostly constructed of salvaged ship parts and treated with tar. Elegant, but flammable. Jayda crouched down, feeling for rocks, and then hurled what she found at the lamps. The glass shattered and the flames licked at the sandstone face of the building. She ripped strips of cloth from her shirt and skirt, snapped a branch off of a palm tree, and wrapped the end with her rags. She drenched the rags in the lamp's oil and set it aflame. When she put it to the wooden side of the house, it didn't take long for it to catch fire.

Thick columns of smoke poured into the air as Jayda and Minsc ducked into the darkness. The commotion that spilled forth littered the streets and they easily escaped into the crowd. When she glanced back, half of the house was bright with flames licking at the sky. _Good_, she thought. _I hope Desharik burns alive with every single one of his pirate treasures._

And then Jayda tied her torn shirt at the collar to keep herself from being exposed and led Minsc away from the pirate lord's burning house on the hill.

/

Jayda, cloaked in shadow, peeked into the house she knew to be Perth's. She had borrowed Minsc's dagger and sent him back to the inn to inform the others of what had transpired and what she intended to do. As a thief, she was adept at sneaking in the shadows and cloaked killing. After the waste of time the pirate had turned out to be, she had little patience for another planning session. She would get the wardstone and meet them at the Vulgar Monkey. Minsc was to tell them to be ready.

Her once-grey eyes now alight with amber peered through the open slats of his shutters. The wizard was bent over his table, studying something. He moved away, selected a book from one of his many shelves, and returned to the table. He plucked at ingredients scattered over the surface, mumbling to himself. She slipped into the window and hid in the nook between the oven and the wall. She watched him fetch a small, old chest and take it to the table. He opened it, fished more objects from within, and continued his work, musing in incoherent murmuring.

Quick as light, she snuck up behind him, jerked one of his arms behind his back, and put a knife to his throat. He gave an exclamation of alarm but she hissed in his ear.

"Say a word, old man, and I'll carve a permanent smile on your face." She moved the dagger up to his lips and tucked the blade between his teeth. "Give me the wardstone you use to enter the Asylum."

"Is it time once again for the experiments?" he croaked. "I await your instruction, warden."

"The wardstone!" she hissed, applying enough pressure on the dagger to place tiny slits in the corners of Perth's mouth. "In a moment, you'll be dead, now give me what I ask and I may spare you."

"A moment? No, all the moments are together," he babbled. "All together and with another. I have no moments."

Jayda frowned. What was he rambling on about? Was he insane? And then she noticed the mirror on the table. The wizard's eyes reflected up at her, wide and crazed.

"You are… the likeness of who to recognize… has been given to me… in my head…" he whispered. "Jayda? Jayda?" He narrowed his gaze on her. "Jayda! If the subject is encountered, do not hesitate to test her limits! These are valuable parameters for study!"

"Are you mad?" she growled, but she already knew the answer. Perth began to struggle in her grasp.

"Test of limits! Yes, test of limits!"

Jayda released his hand, gripped his jaw, and ripped the dagger over his throat before he could cast any spells or summon aid. He slumped to the ground, frail and limp, and bled out onto his rug. She fished through his robes but found nothing of interest. Skimming over the surfaces around the home, she noticed an eerie stone atop a book. She picked it up, felt the magic in the smooth, gray texture, and knew this was what she sought; the stone's tormented face stared up at her, the black mark of its mouth gaping as though to scream and swallow her whole.

She looked away and examined the book it was perched on. Opening the cover, she read the words scrawled on the cover page. _The Book of Infinite Spells._ Perhaps it would be of some use. She snatched it up and left the same way she entered.

When she reached the Vulgar Monkey, she stopped short. Anomen was sitting outside, waiting. The moment he saw her, he leapt to his feet.

"Jayda!" he exclaimed, voice strained with concern. "Are you all right?" She nodded, but he did not seem convinced. He rushed to her, face flushed in embarrassment of her state; her clothes, what little remained, were ripped. "Minsc told us what happened! I should have gone with you. I should have been there to protect you!"

"I'm fine," she assured him. It was a half-lie. She was not fine, but an hour ago, she had been much worse. Somehow, killing Perth had filled her with a sense of control. And power. It was not a good sign.

"Fine?" he balked. "Your clothes are torn, your body bruised… My lady, I'm so sorry this happened to you. I'm so sorry I was not there for you!"

"Anomen, it's all right—"

"It isn't!" he insisted. "I pledged to protect you! Instead, I let you go to that monster. We never should have risked you!"

"I can protect myself!" she exclaimed, anger flaring inside of her. _Why?_ She screamed inside her head. Anomen was only concerned from her. Why was she angry at him? But she couldn't stop herself. "This was my choice to make! Am I some helpless child?"

"No—"

"Am I some defenseless woman?"

"No, of course n—"

"I am a child of Bhaal!" she declared. "Dare them to come at me, I will slaughter them all!"

She saw the bright flash of gold in her eyes reflected off Anomen's breastplate and turned away, ashamed and infuriated at her lack of self-control. What was happening to her? Was this place cursed? Perhaps coming to Brynnlaw had been a big mistake after all.

"Jayda," Anomen murmured. "It is not the warrior that I'm afraid for. It is the woman." He came closer. "As warriors, we are proud and strong. As men and women… we are more fragile than we know."

She glanced back at him with a sympathetic gaze and knew it was a lesson she had taught him when she broke his heart. Flooded with more guilt, she hung her head, unable to look at him.

"I… I cannot imagine what impulses your heritage must fill you with…"

"I have only been that frightened once in my life," she confessed quietly. "When Sarevok murdered Gorion, I… I was so afraid. I was so _angry_. It was as if I faced him again. I wanted to kill him."

"You did not."

"I should have."

She met his gaze. Anomen searched her eyes.

"This Sarevok was a man of great power and of similar godly heritage… Yet when he ravaged the north and burned the coast, you maintained the higher road and saved Baldur's Gate from great chaos and destruction. You are not Sarevok."

"Gorion kept the bad away, kept me balanced. I didn't even know I had Bhaal's essence in me until I was already a young woman. Sarevok did not have that grace."

"Would it have mattered?"

"It might have."

"Doubtful." Anomen shook his head. "Even when you knew, you fought to do the right thing. You have always tried to do the right thing."

"Tried, but not always succeeded," she snapped.

"The blood calls to you," he agreed. "I see it in you; I see it when you fight. I see it now." Anomen frowned. "Your eyes are so golden now. It is almost beautiful, my lady… if it weren't so frightening."

"Anomen…" She didn't know what to say to his sympathetic gaze. "Maybe the godblood in other divine prodigy produced perfect offspring, but us of the Bhaal lineage were not so fortunate…" It was a joke, but he did not laugh.

"Every time your anger overtakes you, your self-control slips further away. Every time you come closer to losing control, the Bhaal blood takes over more. Of course, it's silly to think those times you did not do the right thing are a product of Bhaal's blood and not simply… because you exist in this world a mortal being, affected and affecting unto it. Still, one can't help but wonder…" He shifted his weight from one foot to the next, paused to try to find the right words. "_I_ can't help but wonder. I see the trial you face when you fight, the struggle against your blood. Sometimes you make it seem so easy, but then—"

"There is always a struggle against my blood, Anomen. Always. And it is never easy."

He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "Are you losing?"

The question surprised her and she stared at him blankly for several moments. When she thought back on her behavior, on her emotions since she left Amn—no, since before Amn—she couldn't say she wasn't. Perhaps, all along, she had been fighting a losing battle… since before Gorion ever tried to whisk her away from Candlekeep. Jayda was the daughter of Bhaal, and she would never escape her own bloodline. Since she left Candlekeep and Sarevok ripped open her hip, nearly killing her, she had sent thousands of souls to the Nine Hells, to her lord father. And every day, the whispers inside of her became louder. Every life she took, the anger in her veins grew.

"I might be…" she whispered. "Anomen… it's possible I'm fighting a war that cannot be won."

"But you'll keep fighting, my lady?"

"Until it kills me."

Anomen squeezed her shoulder. "And I will keep fighting beside you. So do not despair, and do not give up… Imoen still needs our help. I would not abandon you now. Or ever."

"Thank you," she murmured.

When they went back inside, Jayda motioned for her companions to follow her up to her room. When they were locked behind the door, she tossed the book of spells to Aerie and the wardstone to Jaheira.

"No doubt they'll know we're here soon if they don't already," she told them. "We should use the fire for cover while the town is still fussing over it."

"Jayda," Jaheira began.

"Don't," Jayda said, more gently this time. "You were right. I'm sorry."

"I just want to know if you're okay…"

"I am." Jayda warmly looked at Minsc and then back to her druid friend. "I am."

The others left to allow Jayda privacy to change back into her armor. She stripped with shaky hands, trying desperately to push Desharik's face out of her mind. Once she was clothed, armored, and armed again, she pulled Gaelan's flower from her bag and fought back tears.

Why had she ever left him like that? Why had she not been brave enough to tell him how she really felt?

"Gaelan," she murmured and brought the flower to her mouth. She closed her eyes, asked for his forgiveness, and begged him to lend her his shadow. She took a deep breath, tucked the flower safely in her pack, collected her things, and met her friends outside her door. "Let's go."


	25. Spellhold

**Spellhold**

When the comrades reached the peak of the road to the Asylum, Sime was not waiting for them. When asked what they should do, Jayda replied,

"She isn't here. We continue without her."

Then she lifted the wardstone to the gate, passed through, tossed it back to another, and the process repeated until all six of them had crossed over. The climb to the fortress was slow and quiet, the air eerie and stale. The complex was large but abandoned. Buildings with dark windows and crumbling structures were sparse along the vertical path up. Windmills atop buildings slowly turned but Jayda felt no breeze on her skin. There was a sense of doom here, as if they were fools to have come.

But Jayda told herself that it was just her apprehension at facing Irenicus.

Finally, they came before the grand doors of the Asylum and found the wardstone the key in opening them. With a surprisingly quiet creak, the double doors parted and the group went inside. When the resounding thud of the shutting doors echoed behind them, the finality of their decision settled uncomfortably among them.

The floor was blue and gray mosaic tile and an ornate, golden rug stretched the length of the hall. Thin columns spanned each side of the room and the ceiling domed above their heads in blue plaster and gold filigree. The hall was brightly lit with wall lamps and glass globes hanging from the ceiling. It was utterly empty of furniture and people.

Haer'dalis stepped close to Jayda while the others spread out to explore the room.

"Do you feel that, Jayda?" he asked, and his use of her name surprised her so much that she stared at him in confusion; his gaze was too busy exploring their surroundings to notice. "Something… something is very wrong."

"Something is always wrong," she told him.

"This is different. This is…" He finally looked at her. "You should not have ventured into this cage."

"I _have_ to find Imoen," she reminded him. "I had no choice."

"No choice?" He scoffed. "No, lie to yourself if you must, but do not think to convince me that there was no other path to follow."

"There was no other path—"

"Is that true? Perhaps you did not see, but likely you did not look. You have acted very strangely these past few days. I met a woman who would have freed the house of whores rather than leave them to the fate of a cruel guildmaster."

Jayda swallowed hard, remembering his baffled expression back then. Perhaps… she would have freed those men and women before. But she had no time for that now. Imoen was in danger! In danger… just as she had been since day one. And yet Jayda had found the time to help the others… Did she really not have the time? What was wrong with her?

"You judge me?" she croaked.

"I would not judge you for these choices that align with my own, but you Primes have always baffled me in your inconsistencies. That is not the point now."

"Then what is?"

"You could have easily chosen otherwise, and now I fear you will fall prey to the danger that haunts these walls."

"Otherwise? You mean not rescue her?"

"It may already be too late for her, and now too late for you."

Jayda turned to face him directly. "I've never seen you this agitated before. You're afraid." She nodded, tracing the lines of fear in his unique eyes. "Of what? I would give my life to protect you and the others."

"Ah, raven, it is not me I worry for, or the others. No _thing_ here has a desire for us. Only for you… my raven." He reached out and touched her cheek; his palm and fingers were gentle but his skin was rough with strength. His eyes looked deeply into hers and she shifted uncomfortably. "It is usually only your life that is in danger, and while I have little genuine desire at present to see your eyes glaze over in death," he briefly grinned, "I know truly that 'tis only a passing from one adventure into the next. But death," his brows knit together in concern again, "that is not what I feel within these walls of fear and cold stone… There are fates far worse than death."

Truth be told, his words unsettled her greatly, but not enough to shake her resolve.

"Well," she began, clearing her throat, "there is nothing to be done now. The way is forward."

He nodded and dropped his hand. "At least one thing is as it should be." He smiled at her when she looked his way. "I am at your side, my raven."

Jayda sighed. "Haer'dalis…"

"I'm being an actor again?" he guessed.

She fixed him with a stare, but before she could say anything, a door on the far side cranked open and a hunched figure in a brown robe shuffled into the room. Jayda's companions gathered to her, weapons raised defensively.

"Greetings, strangers," the old man mumbled. "I trust you have good reason to be entering this place, yes?"

"We have come for a young woman who was brought here a few months past," Jayda told him. "She is like a sister to me; I have known her all my life. She is innocent in her accused crimes, acting only in self-defense without any knowledge of the crime she'd be committing."

"Ah, I see." The cloaked head nodded. "That is something, yes, a reason enough. I am the Coordinator of this institution. What is the name of the child you seek?"

"Imoen," Jayda replied, flesh crawling with unease. All of her dealings with the Cowled had been violent or unhelpful. This man was the complete opposite of everything she had known the Cowled to be.

"Imoen, yes. She is in good health, and I will direct you to her." The Coordinator turned and started toward the exit, glancing back at them only to say, "this is not a prison, but an institution of healing and learning."

"Healing and learning?" Jaheira balked as they followed him into a hall similar to the entry, though not as grand. "She was taken here against her will!"

"Perhaps, at first, for her own safety," the man replied. "The incident she was involved with was violent and distressing, and she needed help."

"It is not as simple as that—"

"It never is, is it? Still, I'm sure you will understand more once I have explained."

"I understand plenty already!" Jaheira snapped. "This place reeks of corruption and deceit!"

"Please, allow me to show you what I mean. I shall let you examine the facilities, and Imoen, for yourself."

Jayda looked back at the druid and they shared an apprehensive stare. This did not seem at all normal behavior for the self-important and all-powerful Cowled Wizards. But what choice did they have but to follow him? It was more than possible they were being led into a trap. Jayda was certain they were. But at least they knew where they were being led. Storming the Asylum on their own could prove more dangerous.

They passed through a door, crossed another corridor, walked down a flight of steps, and passed through yet another door. All the while, they noticed how eerily empty the place was.

"The Residence for the Magically Deviant houses many people," the Coordinator was explaining as they moved into a long hallway of cells, "all of whom can benefit from a structured environment. They can also be studied, such that what they are capable of is understood better." He stopped in front of a cell where a little girl was playing with dolls on the floor. "Take young Dili here. She was cast from her family for her talents." He looked back at them and nodded with sympathy. "At a remarkably young age, she learned how to shape magical energy, allowing her to change her form as she wishes."

The little girl's big, blue eyes suddenly looked at them, looked past them. She peered for a long while and then scrambled to the bars.

"Do you have a new face today?" she asked, voice hushed in wonder. "I think you do. I can see the real one!" A sly, secretive smile spread across her mouth. "Tomorrow, I will be you, okay?"

The Coordinator sighed in content. "Here, she is safe," he explained, leading them further down the hall, "and others have learned something of what she does. It is invaluable information."

The Coordinator continued to detail cases of various 'occupants', as he called them. There was Wanev, the former Asylum Coordinator whose bad reaction to a spell dramatically unhinged him. Another was Naljier Skal, a former bard who tried to see what lay beyond the universe and the gods, which didn't end well for his sanity. Then there was Aphril, the girl whose planar travel had given her sight into the other realms and, thus, the ability to see the denizens of other realms… at all times. Another was Tiax, a crazed gnome who believed he ruled the world, and Dradeel, the traumatized elven mage. And many, many others.

Finally, they left the levels of cells and came before an ornate door.

"And lastly, the one you seek," the Coordinator said, opening the door and letting them into a large waiting room with a hearth in the center and curving stone benches wrapping around it. "She is quite well, considering the circumstances."

Imoen was sitting on a red cushion, staring into the flames. Jayda and her friends rushed into the room.

"Imoen!" Jayda exclaimed, racing to her side. She threw her arms around her and hugged her tight, but Imoen just rocked back with the force of the hug and sat limply in Jayda's arms.

"So empty…" she mumbled. "Empty…"

Jayda leaned back and frowned. "Imoen? What's wrong? What have they done to do?" There was no response. "Imoen!" But the girl had a faraway look in her eyes as she lazily stared at the fire. "What have you done to her? She looks a mere shadow of herself!"

Jayda got to her feet and whirled to face the Coordinator, who was now standing tall in the doorway.

"Her consciousness comes and goes," he explained, and his voice changed as he spoke; it lost the elderly edge and became harder, deeper. "It is fortunate you arrived when you did… I am quite through with her for the moment."

He reached up and tossed back his cowl. Irenicus stood before them. Weapons were immediately drawn, but he was utterly unafraid.

"The Cowled Wizards no longer run the Asylum, I'm afraid," he told them. Secret passages began opening around the room and vampires slipped from the shadowy depths. "They put up a noble defense, but it was useless in the end."

"Irenicus," Jayda growled. "I owe you a great debt of pain."

"You are intent on revenge or justice, I care not." Irenicus seemed bored as he walked into the room. The vampires encroached upon them, rounding them up into a tight circle while their leader rambled on. "Your fate was sealed since before you arrived. A simple addition to rations and meals by a master of herbs, mister Saemon Havarian." He smiled as the truth sunk in and Jayda realized why she had been acting so strangely. "A spell component," he explained, "gone into a soup or some other dish—undetectable, and nothing more than a seasoning until my casting. You will find you are powerless, child, and I have taken precautions so that you will not be damaged. Rage would be wasted."

At that moment, rage was all there was. Jayda was consumed by anger, blood boiling furiously. She heard the scream but didn't realize it came from her. She threw herself at the wizard, not noticing at first that none of the vampires leapt to his defense. Her vision blurred as she hacked viciously at his visage. She heard voices calling her name, shouting desperately for her; the voices warped and slowed, sounded far away. Her sight distorted into awkward shapes and then to simple splotches of color until nothing was recognizable.

"There is no battle, no heroics," a sinister voice whispered in her ear. "Only sleep."

And the whole world went dark.

/

Sound. Sound came before sight. There were voices, distorted and deep, like demons in the warbled noise of hell. This was hell, wasn't it? Why else would she be in such pain? She tried to open her eyes but her lids felt so heavy. She was so tired, but she hurt too much to go back to sleep. It was the pain that had woken her, not the voices. Not the noise.

She blinked several times, trying to force her lids to work, to open, but everything was so dark. That's when she noticed how hard it was to breathe. She grunted, giving up her fight to see for her struggle for air. She tried to reach up, but could not. She was bound, strapped to something, vertical.

"You're awake," a voice said, still distorted but the words were distinguishable. It was a voice she knew, a voice she detested. "Good."

"I…renicus…" she whispered.

Colors began to fade in and out, cold variations of gray, but it was something more than darkness. There were other voices, but she didn't understand them, couldn't detect where they were coming from. Someone was screaming, but it was only distant noise.

"I fear I have had an advantage over you," Irenicus pontificated from somewhere below her. "I have planned your coming from the start. It could be no other way. It is as I predicted. It has all been."

He said something about treachery, about Saemon, and his plans, but she focused more on trying to see. His features slowly became more than a pale blur, the room more than a vast span of gray. She was in cage in a large, steel room. There were glass bulbs around the room, higher up, but she couldn't tell what they contained. There were more people gathered, further away than the deranged wizard speaking to her, and she could not tell who they were.

"But I'm afraid you won't have to think about any of this or that," he said, and she looked at him again. "Your life ends today."

"Imoen…" she muttered. "Imoen… what have… you done… to Imoen?"

"Don't worry, Imoen has already suffered what she must for my cause," he replied, and Jayda felt the sharp slice of pain in her heart. She was too late. She was always too late. "She even survived, and this bodes well for you. You are stronger, more focused… and you are _aware_."

"Aware…?" She lifted her head, but Mask, it hurt like hell to do it. "Of what?"

"Aware of what you are," he said, "child of Bhaal."

Jayda frowned and tried to understand his implications. It was hard to think. Her head was fuzzy. Even though the world around her was beginning to take shape and the voices were clearing, her mind was still foggy, brain pounding. Someone was still screaming. She thought she heard her name being called.

"Silent!" Irenicus cursed at the person shouting and then focused back on Jayda. "You didn't know," he said as a matter-of-fact. "You must have suspected. Perhaps she felt no symptoms, but the taint was there. I suspect her innocent charm and humor suppressed the darkness. She showed no symptoms because there was no place for shadow in her spirit. But she is a similar age, and was apparently secluded as a child, just as you were."

"No," she groaned. "No, it's not… it's not possible…"

"Yes. It is." He seemed to delight in educating her. "Imoen is indeed a child of Bhaal. This Gorion of yours should have told you about yourselves early on. You might have learned not to fear what you are." He glanced back at something in the room, something she could not see. "I had to show her some very dark shadows, indeed," he murmured. "It is unfortunate that it had to be done, but it was necessary to get what I needed." His cold gaze fixed on her eyes again. "Now I must focus on you."

"I won't help you…"

"You assume you are a volunteer, but I do not need your cooperation. I will take the essence of you regardless." He stepped up so that he was eye-level with her. "You are in pain. It will soon end."

"Where are the others?"

"They are safe. For the moment. What are your earliest memories?"

"Well…" Jayda swallowed hard. Talking was such a chore, but she was filled with too much hatred to leash her tongue. "I remember coming in that door behind me… Beyond that, it's all a blur. Sorry."

Irenicus looked bored with her sarcasm.

"Have you violent thoughts?" he asked, as though he were a doctor examining a patient. Was this for his science, his experiments? "Of course you do. Have you violent thoughts often?"

"I'm having several right now," she replied, ignoring how her voice cracked. She swallowed again, cotton-mouthed and still finding breathing a difficult task. "Really good ones, too. You'd laugh if you could see them. Well, no, maybe _you_ wouldn't."

Irenicus sighed in agitation. "This is not a game. You do not get points for sarcasm and ill-conceived wit. Answer my questions or further prolong your suffering." She looked away but he gripped her jaw hard and forced her to look at him. "If you used what energy you had in cooperating, you would shorten your misery. It is as in life—if you had used what you had, you would not be in this predicament. You would be a god now, and I would be dust at your feet. Do you understand this?" He seemed to become angrier the more he spoke, and his disgust at her failure to embrace her heritage showed plain on his face. "Now answer my questions—"

"Jon!" a woman's voice called out to him. Jayda knew that voice, too. Where did she know it from? She tried to think but couldn't.

"You interrupt me while I'm working?" he growled.

"The time for this has passed," she purred anxiously. "These experiments are useless now. Do what you must and be done with it."

"You're right," he agreed. He leaned in so his face was close to hers. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I suspect this will be mercifully quick."

Irenicus stepped back and began casting a spell. Someone began screaming again. It was a woman's voice. Jayda looked frantically for the source.

"No, please! Please!" the woman screamed. "Jayda! Don't let him do this!"

"Sime?" Jayda exclaimed, squinting up at the glass bulbs. After a moment, she realized there were people inside of them, their cages connected by wiring hooked up to a great machine that extended behind her. The people were Shadow Thieves, she knew; they were the missing Thieves from Amn. "Sime!"

Irenicus' power was building around him, his chanting growing louder. Jayda struggled against the bonds but they were too tight and her body was too weak, too agonized. Sime was banging against the glass, shouting for help, begging him not to do this, throwing her shoulder against her cage repeatedly.

"Jayda!" she cried.

And then Irenicus released his power into the machine and a loud churning sound overtook all noise but Sime's screaming. One by one, the men inside the cages were zapped by dark energy, their souls ripped from their bodies. Sime threw herself at the glass more frantically, banging as hard as she could, and then the light reached her and, in seconds, she slumped to the ground.

When a dozen men were dead, the energy came for her. Jayda closed her eyes and waited for the blow. The feeling that enveloped her was cold as ice. It cut deeper than the sharpest sword, speared into her chest. And she felt pain ripping out of her, drawing from every nerve ending in her body. It raked up through her, never ending.

/

Thunder cracked loudly outside the window and a bright flash of light filtered through the open blinds. Gaelan sat up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, and used the sound of the torrent of rain to steady his breathing. He got to his feet, pulled on another layer of socks and a warm tunic, and started a fire in his bedroom hearth to warm the chill. He went to his window and stared at the dark, soggy streets of the Slums.

Something had woken him from sleep. He couldn't remember any nightmares, but he couldn't shake the horrible feeling in his bones.

The guild war had ended, the Shadow Thieves' power reestablished in the city, and all had gone back to the way it was before the vampires had come. All but him, who was still hung up on a red-headed woman that had come into his life and changed it forever. He had hoped that he would forget her in a week or two, but that had been a vain wish. As he had known all along, there was no forgetting. There was only remembering. And regretting.

Gaelan put his hands on either side of the window and hung his head. The more time that passed, the more childish he felt he'd been for not trying harder to hold onto her. Then he cursed himself, laughed at himself, would have kicked himself if he could've. He'd not tried at all to hold onto her. He had only wanted for something she could not give, and was disappointed when he did not receive it.

Even then, he couldn't say the words, not even in his mind. He mentally alluded to the ideas and the feelings with ambiguous phrasing so that he could make his thoughts coherent but vague enough not to admit the truth of his own stupidity. He struggled to think on other thoughts instead, and sometimes he succeeded, but only on the days he remembered their time together instead of what it had meant.

Oddly enough, the memories he valued most were not the ones where they were making love, but rather the ones where they were talking and laughing together late in the night with one torch burning on the wall and her in his arms. Or the time they spent in the Copper Coronet, silently signaling each other across the tavern with smiles and inconspicuous gestures; she might express boredom at one of the knightling's noble tales, or he might warn her about the talkative nature of various drunken patrons that passed by him, and sometimes they merely found secret ways to signal how much they desperately wanted to ditch their company, their clothes, and relieve the day's tension in each others' bodies.

Sometimes, he remembered how excited he would be during the day, knowing that when night came… she would come to him. The anticipation of being with her could be just as rewarding. One night he recalled very clearly. He was alone, counting the guild's cut of his profits, and feeling disappointed because he'd heard a rumor—from an unreliable source, he admitted later—that she had gone out of the city that day, and he knew she wouldn't be coming that night. And then, as he counted out the one-hundred and fiftieth piece of gold, she suddenly put her arms around him from behind, fingernails gently clawing at his chest beneath his shirt, and her lips went to his ear.

"Good evening, Gaelan," she'd said.

And he had been filled with such—

Gaelan looked up as thunder cracked again and more lightning flashed. He hoped to Mask she was all right, wherever she was. He didn't know why he had been awoken in the middle of the night, why he was filled with such dread, or why he suddenly had such a strong sense of her with him in that moment. But he was worried… worried it might have something to do with her, with some trouble she might be in.

"Jayda," he whispered to the storm. "Ye can get through this, can't ye?"

It was a stupid notion, talking to someone who wasn't there. He felt more than childish for doing it, but somehow also felt comforted. He wanted to also tell her to stop being stubborn and come back. He wanted to tell her to forget her heritage and just be a thief in the night. He wanted to promise he would forever be her shadow if she would be his. He wanted to tell her to come back…

But all he said was, "Ye can… can't ye?"

/

"Do… not fight…" a voice whispered.

Jayda opened her eyes and saw blurry swirls of red and orange and black.

"To fight… is to lose…"

She blinked, groggy, and tried to stand up. Dry dirt fell from her cheeks and hard clumps dug into her palms as she forced herself up.

"Do… not… fight…"

"Imoen?" Jayda called.

"Come to me…" the voice beckoned. "Find me…"

Jayda struggled to stand, her feet sliding in the dry earth. She looked around at the red ground and the orange sky. There was a gate in front of her and a path to a bridge, a bridge to a giant keep. Candlekeep. She remembered, but… not the Candlekeep from her youth. The Candlekeep of her dreams. A lifeless purgatory for her troubled soul.

"Imoen!" Jayda called louder, but her throat was so parched. "Imoen!" she rasped again. "Where are you?"

"Find me… Find me within… You cannot fight alone… Find me within…"

Jayda took one shaky step forward, nodding brokenly and muttering, "I'm coming… Imoen… I'm coming…" She stumbled through the courtyard, weak and bleary. She was so tired. So tired. She just wanted to sleep. But she couldn't. She had to do something. Had to find someone. Had to find Imoen. She didn't know why, just that she had to. She must.

Or it would be too late.

The air was stale and tasted acrid. The ground was cracked and dead. Gaping sinkholes on either side of her road gave way to the starry void. The sky was enflamed and dark clouds churned slowly above. But the air was stagnant. There wasn't a drop of moisture in this place, or an ounce of wind.

Her boots hit the wooden boards of the hollow bridge, echoing as she shuffled across. Then she could go no further. There was something in her way—something tall and black and covered in scales. She looked up and saw a demon beast like a great dragon, its head nearly touching the top of the keep.

"This path is to the core," he gurgled, voice deep and growling. "Only through sacrifice can you walk the path." He grunted and smoke shot out of his wide nostrils in short bursts. "Do you give of yourself that you will know yourself? Let go of what you are, that you might see from a distance."

Jayda's hands went to her hips, clawed for her weapons, and she jerked her swords from their loops. She tried to attack him, but her movements were lazy and uncoordinated. She could barely stand, barely balance herself. She was moving through molasses, through mud, through water; that's why she couldn't breathe, she was submerged in water.

"I'll fight you!" she screamed. "I won't let you hurt them. I'll protect them. I'll fight you!" She lashed out at the creatures legs, but her blades passed right through him. "I'll never stop fighting…"

"I am but the guardian at the door," he told her, and more smoke curled from his nostrils. "To fight me is to fight yourself. I will not be moved." He grunted again. "Do you give of yourself that you will know yourself?"

Jayda swayed but managed to stay on her feet. Her swords clattered to the ground and her head lolled back on her neck so that she could look at him.

"Yes," she muttered.

"Choose what you will sacrifice."

"What do you want?" she groaned. She had given something to everyone. She would never stop giving. Not until they had every piece of her. And Bhaal would have her soul. "Take it," she called up to him. "It's yours."

"Your strength which pulls you through, sustains you, drives you." The dragon beast growled and stomped his giant paws, snorting and grunting more smoke out of his nostrils and mouth, as though he were choking on the stuff. "Through your weakness, you shall suffer and know yourself through what you have lost."

Jayda felt the energy leaving her, felt her willpower draining from her heart and limbs. Somehow, she managed to remain standing. The dragon's long neck curled against his body as his head lowered and his gaze was level with hers. She saw herself in his bright, amber eyes.

"Pass as you should, and do not fear what comes."

And just as he had appeared, the beast was gone. A door stood before her. She reached for the handle and it opened on its own. A cold blast of air collided with the stagnant heat. She staggered inside. The library was in ruins, empty, forgotten, and dark. She stumbled across the chipped marble floor, looking for signs of life. There was no one. It was empty. She was alone. Alone save for the resounding absence of the ghosts—the ghosts she knew haunted this place.

Upstairs. Maybe they had gone upstairs.

"Imoen," she whispered and then collapsed on the stone steps.

She didn't know how long she laid there before she knew she had to move, felt in her heart she had to keep going. She reached out and gripped the step, strained as she pulled herself up. She reached out again and, this time, she grasped a hand. She looked up into the face of her lost friend squatting next to her, knees curled into her chest.

"Imoen!"

"Ssshhh… before the shadows return to me…" she whispered. "I have seen what is to come. One alone cannot fight. Alone, you would fall… whether you win or lose… But together. Together… he does not expect us together… but he has shown me how. Together, we can fight… together, we can win…" She looked up, at something beyond them. Fear flickered in her eyes. "Together… It is your only chance… and my last…"

She started to shrink away, back up the stairs, and Jayda struggled to her feet, reaching out, refusing to let go.

"Imoen!"

"Together," she echoed. "Together."

Imoen disappeared, terror and uncertainty on her face. Jayda got to her feet and whirled around, drawing her weapons; when did she get them back? She didn't know, only that she had them, always had them. She did not know what she would face, only that she had to fight, had to protect Imoen. There in the door stood a tall and imposing figure, wrapped in spiked armor and armed with a toothed sword. His muscles flexed dangerously beneath his skin as he stomped toward her, eyes like fire burning beneath the slit in his helmet.

"Fall to your knees!" he boomed, and she felt power in his voice. It tugged at her insides, yanked at her body. "You can do no other!"

She nearly dropped to her hands and knees, nearly obeyed. She held her sword tightly, grunting as she fought the gravity weighing her down.

"I am within you! I am your essence!" the figure told her. "You can never run from yourself; you can never defeat yourself! I am the blood! I am the instinct! You will fall to your knees! You can do no other!"

Jayda screamed as she resisted, shutting her eyes tightly so that she could focus on standing. The great weight was within, pulling her down. She felt hooks in her knees and elbows, tugging with unrelenting force. Her limbs shook, begged for release. Give in, they said, but she couldn't. She wouldn't.

"I will never bow to you!"

"I am your instinct, yet you deny me? Fight me within your own mind? I should devour you!"

Jayda screamed again as more power ripped through her veins and tried to force her to the floor, to her knees. It struggled with her violently, demanding she bow, demanding she obey.

"Imoen!" she cried, knees bending toward the stone.

Then suddenly there was a hand that shot out of the darkness. Without hesitating, Jayda reached up and grabbed it. And then the power pulling her down was gone. She nearly reeled when she was released, but steadied her footing and managed to keep her grip on her sword. There was no hand in hers, but Imoen appeared beside her, stronger than before and unafraid.

The figure gawked angrily.

"How do you stand?" he boomed and shuffled toward her. "I sense… your soul… it has taken form to guide from within. Strange, even among your kin." The creature continued to come close, softly growling in his throat. "But it is weak, weak and will not help you again."

The figure stood before her and it was as if he had moved out of shadow. His helmet was gone and his face—a weathered skull—looked into hers. His eyes were bright amber balls of light in those empty, black sockets. She knew these eyes. She knew this face—this skull. He smiled down at her, a sadistically loving, skeletal smile.

"Bhaal," she whispered.

"No," Imoen muttered, suddenly frantic. "Something is wrong… Something is… is wrong! I.. no! Not again! Not again!"

"Imoen!" Jayda exclaimed as the girl beside her screamed.

There was a burst of light as she was ripped from the world. Jayda reached for her, tried to catch her, but Bhaal suddenly had her by the throat, his face inches away.

"You are empty inside," he muttered. "There is nothing within… but the instinct!"

/

Jayda's head lolled in darkness and a cool sensation tingled in her flesh.

"Well, you are a strong one, indeed," a man said. "You resist beyond all reason. A pity you are dead inside."

Someone was touching her, unlatching whatever held her up. And then she was falling, but did not have the strength to stop it. Cold arms caught her and pulled her up, held her limp form upright. Someone came closer, an enveloping presence. A voice whispered to her.

"I have drained you," he said, "drained you of the very thing that made you special. It is the worst of curses… I should know." A vice-like grip clamped around her jaw, jerked her head up. She could not see who or what; her eyes would not open. "I have taken your very divinity… I have drained you of your soul. You will _wither_, you will _wane_, and you will _die_."

Her head was released and it dropped back down, hanging limply between her shoulders.

"I bid you farewell, child of Bhaal," he said, almost gently. "We shall not meet again."

Whatever held her up dragged her feet across the ground, and then she was falling into more darkness.


	26. The Monster in the Labyrinth

**The Monster in the Labyrinth**

She was empty. Almost. Never in her life had she felt so displaced. Something was gone. It was missing. A piece of her. Empty. Almost… There was something left behind, something crawling through her veins, squirming in her gut… remnants, embers of the great fire that once burned at the core. But no longer. The fire was gone, dug out of her, ripped up by the roots, and all she had were traces left floating in her blood, lost, purposeless, afraid.

There was pain, too. A numbing pain, just enough to feel at all times, a constant reminder. A reminder that she was empty. Almost. She felt a flare of anger—a pathetic pulse that barely warmed her cold blood. If the monster was going to take her fire, why not take it all? Why leave anything behind? Why leave her with the knowledge that a part of her was missing… so that she mourned, with every passing second, the thing that had been stolen.

She tried to get angry again, but there was nothing left in her to burn. The embers tried to ignite, but the fire was gone. And her body was cold. Where had the fire gone?

Jayda felt someone shaking her. They were calling to her, over and over again, telling her to wake up. The voice was so familiar. It was familiar. Nostalgic. Important. She was doing something. Something important. She had to wake up. She didn't have time for sleep. She didn't have time to waste. She didn't have time for him. She had to go. Someone was waiting for her.

Jayda slowly opened her eyes to look at the hazy form above her.

"Imoen…?"

"Jayda!" Imoen gasped and several others shuffled around her to get closer. "Thank the gods you're awake."

"Imoen… are you all right?"

"I… I don't know." She tried to smile. "I was so scared… I was so scared, Jayda." A few tears slipped down her cheeks. Jayda sat up and hugged her. "You came all this way to get me—"

"Of course I did," she whispered. Imoen clutched her tightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You should have just left me, and now you're—"

"Enough," Jayda insisted, taking Imoen firmly by the shoulders. "Look at me. That's enough. We're in this together, you understand?" Imoen nodded. "Irenicus: what did he do to you?"

"I… I don't know," she confessed, swiping at her tears. "Same thing he did to you, I guess… since we're… we're… the same…"

Jayda sighed and hung her head. So it was true. Part of her wanted to shout and scream at Gorion's ghost. Why didn't he tell them? Why didn't he leave some letter or note explaining _everything_? She could have protected Imoen. She could have kept her far, far away. But the other part of her was tired of blaming others, of being angry, of being a Bhaalspawn.

And now she didn't have to be one anymore.

"I don't know who I am now, Jayda," Imoen said. "I feel… hollow. He took something vital, some integral piece of me. My divine soul? That's what he said. I didn't even know I was a Bhaalspawn, didn't even know that vital piece of me existed... And now it's gone. Now I'm empty and dying… You are, too."

The morbid Imoen was one Jayda had only briefly known, back in Irenicus' dungeon. Before, she had been a bright, carefree girl. Even when things got bad, she found a way to smile; and when things got worse, she somehow managed to crack a joke. But this Imoen was a girl Jayda didn't know. It broke her heart.

"Imoen, listen to me. We're going to be okay. We'll survive by helping each other, like you helped me in the dream during the spell." She took her friend's hand. "He doesn't expect us together, right?"

"Dream?" she echoed, brows furrowed in frightened confusion. "Jayda… I had no dream. There was only blackness… and my will draining away."

For a moment, Jayda didn't know what to say. How could it have happened to one and not the other? Was it because Jayda had been far away when Irenicus drained Imoen's soul, leaving her alone? Or was it because she hadn't known she was a Bhaalspawn? Why?

"You have been living with the knowledge of your heritage longer," Jaheira said, and the girls turned to look at her, as if seeing her present for the first time. "Perhaps you are more focused…"

"Or it is more focused on you," Haer'dalis interjected.

That was an unsettling thought, and one Jayda had no desire to think about. She ignored dealing with it by surveying her companions. They looked a little haggard and hungry, but they were mostly unscathed. Like her, their weapons and armor had been confiscated. She met Anomen's gaze and noted how painfully upset he seemed. She didn't know what to say to him and wished she could find the words to assure him. But she couldn't. She couldn't assure any of them. They had followed her to this fate and now they were suffering for it. It made her chest hurt.

Jayda reached out and took Jaheira's hand, swallowing back her guilt.

"You're all here. You're all right?" she asked.

"Irenicus locked us away for quite some time," Jaheira replied, "and then brought us here when he was finished with you. We have not been harmed."

Jayda peeked around the woman's shoulder to see Aerie huddled in a ball, watching them with big, round eyes. She tried to smile when the Avariel met her gaze.

"Are you okay, Aerie?"

Her nod was more like a twitch. "Wh-what happens now?"

"We find a way out of here." Jayda shrugged. "Find out where here is. Are we still in the Asylum?"

"I believe so," Jaheira replied. "We were led underground so it's possible we have been moved to another site, but unlikely. We did not travel far."

"Then our first step is to find a way out of this foul place!" Minsc announced bravely.

"And to find out exactly what happened to the two of you," Haer'dalis said, "and why."

"We know what happened," Imoen said. "Irenicus stole our divine souls. Why… I don't know."

"Does it matter?" Anomen asked. "No good can come of this. The wizard is pure evil."

"It matters if we are to determine his plans," Jaheira said.

"And where we can find him," Haer'dalis added, then looked pointedly at Jayda, "and get your soul back."

She looked down at the ground, avoiding their gazes. "What if I don't want it back?" she mumbled, Gaelan's words running through her mind: quit being a Bhaalspawn and just be a Shadow Thief.

"What?" Imoen gasped. "You're not… serious, are you?"

"I don't want it. I never wanted it—now it's gone. Why would I try to get it back?"

"How could you ask that?"

"It's a curse, Imoen!" Jayda exclaimed.

"It's your _soul_!" she shouted back. "And mine!"

"Soul or not… I would rather be hollow than a curse." She leaned toward her friend—no, her sister. She had to make her understand. "I didn't have to die to end it… isn't that enough? For the lives that were lost… and the ones now saved… it's enough. I would have died to protect them…"

"You _will_ die," Imoen whispered, "if you do not get it back." She placed a hand on Jayda's shoulder. "Jayda, we will die…"

_You will wither, you will wane, and you will die._

Jayda looked at the ground again. She didn't want to die, but somehow… that felt right. All of this trouble had spawned out of her willingness to live, her rebellion against the Bhaalspawn's fate. Some tiny seed inside had just started to hope that, without it, without the curse, she could live… live with Gaelan, live a normal life, live in the shadows. But it wasn't to be. It would never be.

"Maybe it's my time," Jayda said quietly, but she doubted anyone heard. She lifted her hand, put it on Imoen's shoulder. "I won't let that be your fate, Imoen."

"And we won't let it be yours, my lady," Anomen said, placing his hand on her knee.

"Anomen—" she began, but Jaheira cut her off.

"Jayda. If not for yourself… do it for the innocents who will surely die. What do you think will happen when Irenicus unlocks your full potential within himself? Do you think he will really stop at this?" She lifted her shirt to show Jayda the black veins of taint around the knotted scar. "How much of this will spread, unchecked? You could not control it and it was your burden to bear. Irenicus has stolen your divinity… He will _never_ be able to wield it."

"You promised us," Anomen reminded her. "You promised me, 'so long as my undoing does not aid another darkness from taking my place.' You swore you would not let this stand."

Jayda nodded. They were right. Of course they were. She could never stop fighting, not until she had given up everything. She could never run away, never quit before she had lost all of herself. She was just a remnant now, more powerless than before. But she would answer the call. She would always be the subject of her blood. She could do no other.

The instinct was still inside.

"I hate you," she muttered under her breath, a quiet message to her dark father. When she looked up at her friends, she nodded; inside, she was weeping. "You're right. My soul is my burden to bear. Irenicus will pay with his life."

They helped her to her feet and surveyed the room they were in. It was a large atrium of sorts with a high ceiling, four staircases leading out of the pit, and a large mosaic of three heads on the floor. Fires burned in bowls high on pillars in the corners to light the grand room. As they debated which door to pick, a loud crank and a bang echoed off the walls and the scuffling of feet drew their attention to an observation deck above them.

Bodhi appeared with her vampiric entourage. She smiled at them but her eyes were deadlocked on Jayda.

"And so your life does come to an end," she purred. "A pity. You have proven resilient beyond all expectations. It is… appealing to me." She flashed a fanged smile.

"Spare me your words, you heartless corpse," Jayda hissed, glaring up at her.

"You always were straight to the point." She sighed. "My brother is finished with you and charged me with destroying you. Since you are to die, I would have you do it in an entertaining fashion. After all, you did cause me trouble in Amn, though nothing I cannot reverse. Your thieves believe they have the city back under their control, but their savior is gone. I wonder who they will turn to now that they are alone?"

The embers within her were fanned by the taunt, more so than by any memory she had, and a warmer wave of heat washed through her. Temporary, but it was there. Bodhi must have recognized her anger, because she laughed.

"Do you see these passages before you?" She motioned to the four sets of stairs. "This is the darkest part of the asylum and its history: a test of clarity for its prisoners. And I am in control of its machinations now. You must run my gauntlet to prolong your life…" She grinned. "And I shall enjoy watching your useless struggle. Enter the maze, seek your freedom… I will give you time to run… And then I will come to _feed_ on your husk, god-child."

"Do your worst, Bodhi," Jayda growled. "I do not fear you."

"Oh, you should," the vampire purred. "You who are less than what you were, a conquered divinity, a god cast down… you should fear me. You should fear everything."

And then she turned her back on them and disappeared through the door.

"Come on," Jayda said, ripping her glare from the spot where Bodhi once stood. "Let's find a way out of here." She knew they would be looking to her for guidance so she motioned to the nearest staircase. "This way."

"That's very brave of you, my raven," Haer'dalis said when he sidled up next to her.

"Climbing stairs?"

"No, accepting your destiny… even if you do not want it." He smiled, leaning a bit closer when she looked away; she didn't want to talk about, didn't want to even think about it. "That and the fact that you actually seem to know where you're going even if we know you do not."

Jayda surveyed the room they'd walked into, two doors—one her left and one on the right—and another hallway stretching away from them.

"Ah, well," she sighed. "I usually stumble around without a clue, hoping most people will assume I know what I'm doing and not call my bluff."

She glanced up at him and tried to smile like she used to. Haer'dalis chuckled and motioned for her to take the lead.

"Then, by all means..."

Jayda took a peek in the room on their left. It was a square room with eleven statues holding bowls and inscriptions at their feet. It felt like a trap, or a challenge, and she was in no hurry to trigger either. So she went to the room on her right. It opened up into a storeroom full of pots, crates, bolts of fabric, and a small weapon rack. Jayda sighed in relief and immediately went to inspect the contents. She tossed a longsword to Minsc and one to Anomen; she could tell it felt clumsy in his hands by the way he shifted it back and forth, but it would be better than trying to fight with his fists. She gave Jaheira a crude club and passed out daggers among the rest of them.

Now that they were better equipped, Jayda led them further down the hall. They came upon another door and inside was a room full of stone faces carved out of the walls with a tall, angelic figure in the center of the room. They ignored it and continued forward until they heard hellish whispers. Jayda bid them wait while she scouted ahead.

The hallway dead-ended in an empty room with a glimmering portal on the far side. As she drew nearer, images began to take form in the mirror. Demon-like claws started reaching toward her until she backed away. It was a portal to some demonic dimension, and to mess with it would only mean trouble. When she returned to her friends, she shook her head.

"We won't be going that way," she told them, and they made their way back to the main hall.

They took the staircase on the western wall and found themselves in a strange rectangular room with a giant carving of a head coming out of the wall, easily twice Minsc's size. A dozen kobolds leapt out of the corners of the room, yipping angrily at their intrusion. They launched into defensive positions, huddling together protectively. Without their armor, even a kobold could prove deadly.

The furry bundles bounced at them and the group rotated as they fought, keeping a secure circle around Aerie. Yelps and barks echoed off the walls as each one was slain. Though they still continued to come, it was only to die. Then, in the farthest corner, a witchdoctor began casting a spell.

"Imoen!" Jayda shouted.

"On it!" the girl chirped, but before she could react, a bolt of lightning ripped through the creature and bounced off to the two nearest kobolds. "Wow," Imoen whispered as the last of the kobolds were cut down. She glanced back at Aerie. "Nice trigger finger there, blondie."

Aerie smiled bashfully and Jayda went to investigate the statue. She poured over every crack and detail as her companions sorted through the kobolds' weapons for any potential replacements. Jaheira confiscated the witchdoctor's wooden staff and Imoen traded out her dagger for a sharper one.

When Jayda finally touched the statue, a booming voice filled the room.

"Only the builder may pass," it said. "His hand alone shall open the way once focus of power is restored."

Jayda and her companions exchanged glances. Now, they had a goal. They had to find the builder's hand and restore the focus of power. But what did that mean?

They spent a few hours in the statue room, reading the inscriptions at the base of the statues, deciphering their meaning, and transferring the corresponding item from the chest to the bowl the statue held. The puzzle rewarded them with gems and a magic ring, but no other clues were given. Imoen guessed that solving the riddles might help restore the focus of power, so the group decided not to skip over anything. The riddle room was next. Each stone face spoke a riddle, and it took ages before each was solved. The reward was another gem.

The group dodged traps, killed lurking maze creatures, and ravaged another storeroom before they took the eastern staircase and moved into a new area. They fought their way through several caverns of kobolds until they found a tall, glowing crystal seemingly worshiped by the furry beasts. It summoned creatures to defend it, but they were easily slain. And then the crystal's light seemed to dull, its jagged limbs easily broken off, and a faint hum could be heard when one strained to listen. Haer'dalis took a chunk of the stone in case they would need it later.

In more twisting corridors, they found several libraries stocked full of histories and spellbooks. Imoen's and Aerie's spirits seemed to brighten as they searched the shelves, and Jayda was glad to see their faces flicker with even a little joy, so she told Minsc and Anomen to keep an eye on them and took Jaheira and Haer'dalis with her to explore the final hallway. When another room was discovered, Jaheira and Haer'dalis began searching it for clues or useful items, but Jayda continued to the end of the hallway, to a large, stone door.

She opened it and slowly walked inside. Ominous statues rose on three sides of the room, lit by braziers in the four corners. A stone coffin stood on the far side of the cold space. Jayda turned to leave but, before she could walk out the door, a cold chill rose up her spine.

"Stand and speak," a voice whispered in her ear, "that I would hear your lies. Bodhi sent you, didn't she? Come to kill me, have you? Or are you as damned as I?"

Jayda turned to meet the icy gaze of a tall creature—once a man, now a vampire. There was bitterness in the lines of his aged face.

"I was sentenced to this place, same as you," she replied calmly.

"And you're looking for a way out," he assumed, "but there is none. I have sealed the way, and only I can open what is now closed."

"You're the builder," Jayda said and he nodded.

"Dace Sontan. I built this labyrinth, shaped it. When Bodhi turned me, she stole my will, took control of this place! But it is mine. I created it and, if I do not have control, then no one shall! I have sealed it forever!"

"Then unseal it!" she exclaimed. "Don't let her win! There may be no chance of escape, no chance of survival, but to just lay down and die? That is something we cannot do!"

"Your defiance feeds her!" Dace snapped. "She wants you to run, to fight, to try! Your failure is as sweet to her as your blood will be."

"There will be no failure if you help us. And what might be the look on Bodhi's face then? Unseal the way."

Dace regarded her long and quiet. And then finally he shook his head. "No," he said, then threw himself at her. She dodged back, bringing her dagger up and slicing across his throat. He clutched it as the stolen lifeblood poured out, and tried to swing at her again. She slashed his wrist and he reeled. Dace stumbled away from her, smiled, and dissipated into a cloud of smoke, retreating to the coffin.

Jayda took deep breaths in confusion. That had been far too easy. If a vampire had wanted her dead, in her state with no armor or real weapons, she would have been dead. Could he have meant for her to attack him?

"Stake…" she mumbled and ran from the room. "I need a stake."

She searched the first three rooms she came to but found nothing useful. Jaheira and Haer'dalis followed her, asking over and over what she was doing. She briefly explained, but found the telling of the whole story would take too long. Finally, she jerked the staff from Jaheira hands, snapped it over her knee, and beamed at the pointed end.

Jayda raced back to Dace and plunged the makeshift stake into his heart. The body twitched and then died, for good. A wisp of fog rose up from the body and she heard a voice whispering.

"I thank you… I am free…"

"I'm sorry," she whispered back; sorry that it had to be his fate. And then she used her dagger to saw the hand from the body. Her comrades spilled into the room as she pulled it out of the coffin. "I have it," she told them, "the builder's hand…"

They wrapped it in torn rags from a storeroom and took the final hall. It led back into the main area through the southern staircase. Once they were back before the head, Jayda held up the hand.

"The focus of power may be restored," the statue bellowed, "and the hand of the builder opens the passage. The way is open."

His mouth opened, jaw sinking into the ground to reveal a staircase up. The group carefully climbed into the dark well and came out onto a second level. Before them stretched a long and winding maze.

"No…" Imoen whispered. "We'll never get out of here…"

"Don't talk like that, child," Jaheira gently scolded. "We have come this far. Do not lose yourself to despair."

"We've come this far, but how far is it really?" she muttered. "We're fighting a battle we cannot win. Bodhi will come for us and we'll be trapped in this maze when she does, trapped with gods know what else!"

"Imoen!" Jayda snapped, grabbing her sister by the shoulders. It was painful to see her once optimistic friend so hopeless. "We crossed the seas for you! Half a day in a wizard's puzzle is nothing. Keep your wits, Immy… I will get us out of here. I _will_."

Imoen nodded. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm just… so tired."

"I know. Me, too." Jayda looked at the rest of her friends and nodded. "The way is forward."

They took the left path first and followed its many branches to dead-ends or loops. They used a rusty dagger to leave marks in the stones to track their path. They found the occasional door that led to a small room, usually containing nothing more than empty boxes or old rugs, but nothing of use. For the first couple of hours, they had easy traveling. The first sign of life was a low growl somewhere in the halls. It stalked them for nearly an hour, probably looking for a path to them.

When the minotaur found them, it roared in a fit of rage and nearly knocked Aerie into oblivion. Minsc stepped in just in time, head-butting the creature in the side and knocking it into the wall. Anomen and Jaheira danced in to distract it while Minsc got back to his feet and attacked from behind.

Within moments, the beast was dead. Only that was where their trouble began. The wailing cry of a dying minotaur summoned others to their locations, and not just minotaurs but mephits and kobolds. It became a struggle just to keep going, but the corpses left decent markers of their path… until they discovered some of the bodies had gone missing, and an uncomfortable feeling washed over them: what else was in the maze with them that ate the bodies of the dead?

"My raven, my raven, we must have rest if we are to keep this flock together," Haer'dalis muttered as they came back through another loop and found one of Imoen's markers on the wall.

"He's right," Jaheira agreed. "We'll soon be of no use to anyone. We should double back and find one of the empty rooms for a few hours."

"Boo remembers a big, stone door just a few hallways back," Minsc told her. Jayda nodded and motioned for him to lead the way.

"I like how you pretend people are birds," Aerie said when they had walked a few minutes in silence; there was exhaustion in her expression and tone but a brave smile on her lips.

"Pretend?" Haer'dalis echoed. "My dear and mourning dove, 'tis not pretending! We are all frail as birds and mad as hounds, each one of us…" He eyed her sadly. "Aye, each one of us but you, somehow… You fly above us all, no anger, no rage to tie you down."

"I… I do?"

"Aye… You are no hound, nor shall I ever name you one, you have my pledge."

"You promise?"

"Aye, I promise, dove."

Jayda allowed herself a brief smile, but found she did not have the energy or will to feel any joy. She wanted to be glad that, amid the turmoil, the frailest creature with them was marching on, chin held high and hope in her heart. Perhaps, she thought, that made her the strongest of them.

When they locked themselves safely in a side room, Minsc and Anomen busted up the old boxes and Aerie lit a fire from the scraps. Jayda volunteered herself for the first watch and Minsc agreed to keep her company. The others went to sleep quickly, hoping it would distract from their growling bellies; all except Haer'dalis, who came to sit next to her by the fire.

"Come for more stories?"

"If you are too tired to speak, tell me so and I will be content to sit in your company awhile."

"Aren't you tired? You called for a rest."

"I am, and I did, but surely it was for the smaller ones. The Avariel and your childhood friend… they were looking more haggard."

Jayda frowned and stared at her fingers twisting together. She knew it. She knew they couldn't have gone on longer. But she didn't want to stop. She didn't want to lose ground to sleep. She wanted to get out of there, get Imoen and the others out of there. It was foolish, she knew. They were right to stop. She couldn't have gone on much longer herself. But Mask, she wanted to fulfill a promise… fulfill a promise before it was too late.

"What did you want to know?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Let's see… We spoke of your foster father and your mother. Tell me of your childhood. It must have been considerably exciting, my talented raven, considering the type of person you are now. If memory serves, and the rumors hold true, you hail from a place known as Candlekeep, aye?"

"Aye."

"Tell me, what was it like."

Jayda did not want to talk of Candlekeep, the memory that served as her private purgatory. But she did not want to explain _that_ even more than she did not want to discuss the place. So she took a deep breath and thought back, tried to remember it before it was tainted.

"It was quiet," she finally replied. "Full of learning and books, and people who had known each other all their lives. Not a stranger's home, and everything homegrown."

"You speak of it fondly. Did you enjoy this home of yours?"

"It was home," she admitted. "At the time, I had no complaints, but I… wouldn't feel comfortable there anymore."

"Aye, 'tis fascinating how we change as we grow and age, is it not?" He didn't seem to detect the truth of her reasoning and she was grateful for it. "The things we once valued become unimportant, and that which we once scorned becomes our fondest desire. Was there some particular pastime you enjoyed most? Some lesson or instruction that piqued your interest?"

"I wasn't much for my lessons, I'll admit," she told him with a small and brief smile. "And for all Imoen's rebellion, she ran right home the moment she was called, never missed a chore or a lesson."

"You were a different story," he guessed.

"I was always sneaking around, getting into trouble. I couldn't stay still, couldn't keep my hands to myself. There was nothing I wanted, only the pride that I could filch anything I set my mind to. And in a town where everyone knew everyone else, I made it my job to cross it unseen."

"I can easily imagine the mischief you made as a girl. What I would not give to have seen it for myself!"

"You can ask Imoen to recite some of the tales for you later. She has a few favorites she'll repeat to anyone, even strangers passing by."

"I'll ask her." He smiled. "And I would hear some from you as well."

"Sometime," she promised.

"Would you care to return to Candlekeep someday, if only just to see it one more time?"

"I… no," she admitted. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"It's no longer home. There are unfriendly memories there that I do not wish to relive."

"Your foster father's murder."

"Yes." She didn't elaborate on the others.

"Surely you have come to terms with that now. Would you really not return to your childhood home for such a reason? You may have one dark memory there, but a hundred more good ones are there as well. Would you throw that away over one small thing?"

Gorion's death was no small thing, but she could not even bring herself to get angry because of it. The remnant embers in her blood just flickered and pulsated angrily, but she could not ignite them.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"Why?" he asked again.

"Because I'm no longer welcome!" she blurted, and then flushed in embarrassment. She saw a few of the others stir in their sleep but they did not wake. She looked to her bard and said quietly, "I'm no longer welcome in Candlekeep, Haer'dalis."

"I see," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for prying. It is a shame, I think. I would have gladly joined you for such a journey. 'Twould be most educational, I think, to see where my raven learned to fly." His smile was gentle and almost affectionate. "As I am writing your story, I should know as much of your past as I can, and I look forward to knowing the future."

She patted his arm. "You have proved a most useful and pleasant companion, sparrow. You are welcome at my side as long as you wish it."

Haer'dalis suddenly took her hand. "I adore being at your side, my raven. I have no words to express it, oddly enough." He chuckled when he saw the flicker of discomfort in her gaze and released her hand. "Of course, the chances of either of us surviving long enough to see much more of the future is slim indeed."

Jayda laughed, too, and they sat in silence for a long while. Haer'dalis finally went to sleep and, after a few hours, Jaheira woke to relieve her. When Jayda was shaken awake, her body ached from head to toe and trembled in defiance. Her bones begged her to sleep just a little longer, mind hazy from lack of rest, but she ignored the protests and got to her feet, ignored the nausea and forced herself to focus.

After carefully opening the doors and making sure Bodhi was not lying in wait on the other side, they set off. Hungry and weary, they took a new path and traveled half the day without incident. The battles were scarcer, but they did come, more of the same creatures and in smaller numbers. That did not stop them from being a challenge. No food and little rest lowered the group's fighting ability substantially and each sustained small wounds for their efforts. Jayda would not allow any healing to be done unless there were serious wounds to be taken care of; their rest was scarce as it was and she wanted to preserve all the magic they could.

Another day passed, but more progress had been made, they felt. They rested in another storeroom where stale bread and over-salted meat had been stored. They rationed what wasn't infested with mold and bugs into a morsel for each and then spent another rough night changing watch shifts for hard sleep.

The next morning, they awoke with more energy than before. This time, they did not travel long before they began to find some hope. The first room they came to housed a fountain. Another a great hall full of braziers and mosaics. Finally, they came to a bright room made of white marble; a minotaur statue stood in the center, tall and fearsome.

"The monster in the labyrinth," Haer'dalis mumbled poetically, flashing a grin at those who looked his way. "He is not so fearsome now, is he?"

"Let's hope we don't run into the real thing," Anomen said. "We still don't know what came after the dead."

"That doesn't matter now. Look," Imoen said, pointing to a pair of double doors on the far side of the room. "How much you wanna bet that's the way out?" Suddenly, her spirits were lifted.

"Really?" Aerie gasped in joy. "Really? Do you think it is?" She crossed over to Imoen and the girls shared hopeful smiles.

They went to the door and tried to figure out a way to open it. Minsc pointed out the minotaur statue was missing a horn and Jaheira immediately began inspecting it. Before she could say what the rest of them were thinking, Jayda heard a faint voice growing louder.

"Here, mousey mousey… Here, mousey mousey…" Bodhi spun out of the passage they had just come from, arms crossed over her chest and a hungry smile on her lips. Two vampires huddled behind her—Valen and some other—baring their fangs. "The hunt draws to a close, here and now…"

Aerie and Imoen stood together, backs to the door, spells at their fingertips. Jayda thought she heard the Avariel whisper, "false dawn" to Imoen but wasn't sure. Minsc and Jaheira took positions between the girls and the enemy, weapons raised and ready. Anomen and Haer'dalis came to her side.

But something was wrong. She could feel it inside. A stirring of embers.

"You said you'd give us time," Jayda growled, trying to buy them a few more seconds as she struggled to concoct some brilliant plan of getting out of this alive. No encounter with any vampire had been simple, and that was when they were armored and wielded weapons with familiar weight and balance.

"I know I'm early," she said with a pouty face, "but I just couldn't bear to see you leave. You were amusing, but the game is over." She unfurled her arms and revealed a sinister dagger. "One last time, let our paths cross in blood! Any last requests? Would you beg me free your companions?"

The embers were whirling now, pulsating, flaring up. She was feeling hot.

"Any messages I should deliver to Amn?" Bodhi continued with a hint of laughter. "Farewells? Apologies? Pleas for forgiveness?"

Something was rising through her, something was overwhelming her. Her mind felt arrested, control slipping. She thought she swung out her arms to push Anomen and Haer'dalis away, but she didn't feel them. Didn't feel her arms moving. Didn't feel anything but the heat quickly building.

"Perhaps… for one thief in particular… what was his name? Him I will visit personally."

Jayda screamed as a great fire burned inside of her, the void where her soul had been filled with murderous fury.

They wanted to take it all away? They wanted to kill everyone she loved, everyone she had tried to help, everyone she had merely greeted in passing? Sarevok, Irenicus, Bodhi, Bhaal! They enjoyed her struggle, laughed at how she was thrown from one horrible fate to another? Smiled as she triumphed only to fall back into a deeper pit of darkness?

They had hurt her, tortured her, ripped her soul out, tried to kill her countless times! She had been bleeding in the dust when they took Gorion from her! Locked in a cage being tortured when they killed Khalid and Dynaheir. Battered this way and that as she desperately struggled to find Imoen when they took her sister's soul. And then they dared take hers and throw her in a pit to be hunted like an animal and slaughtered? Were her friends just casualties of her destiny?

Did they think they were so strong? Did they think they had so much power? She had had enough of their power. She would show them power. She _was_ power. More powerful than all of them, more powerful than Bhaal! Now there would be nothing but them… and the Instinct!

...

Jaheira watched in horror as Jayda collapsed to her knees, her bloodcurdling scream piercing her straight to the core. Something inside of her stomach started to burn and she nearly doubled over in pain, arm clutching her gut in agony. She went to one knee and watch the scene before her.

Smoke was rising off of Jayda as though she held a fire inside her skin. Then her body began to wrench and twist, flesh dissipating as she became something else, something more. Black skin glistened wetly in the torchlight and razor-sharp spikes sprouted from her shoulders and back. A human scream became a hellish cry. The beast towered over them all, rippling with muscle.

Jaheira did not see the face at first, only the expressions the vampires made. They looked as though they had been cast into the Nine Hells themselves—utterly terrified.

Jayda the Monster took two stomping steps toward Bodhi and her kin and gave a bellowing roar, high-pitched screeches threaded into the deep howl. Anomen and Haer'dalis scrambled back to where she and Minsc stood, all gaping at what their dear friend had become.

"Jayda!" she cried, but the beast did not turn, did not hear, was not Jayda.

"What have you become, child of Bhaal?" Bodhi hissed.

And then Jayda reached out to grab her. The vampire queen barely dodged out of the way, nearly stumbled, and a minotaur horn fell from her garments and clattered across the floor. Her servant was picked up instead, squirming and struggling as Jayda brought the creature to her face. She screamed at it, amber eyes flaring brightly in rage. The vampire screamed back, but in terror. And then she ripped the creature apart and tossed the pieces here and there.

Bodhi and Valen tried to escape, but everywhere they moved they were intercepted by the great hell beast. Her footsteps rattled the whole of the asylum, or so it felt. The walls shook and dust rained from the ceiling, and it felt as though the whole place might collapse. It barely contained her as it was.

"Jayda, don't!" Jaheira screamed.

"Jayda!" Imoen yelled. "You have to stop!"

The vampires, desperate, attacked her but their swipes at her left wounds she did not feel. They could not hurt her, could not stop her. She swept them away with ease, batted them about like a cat would with mice. And after toying with them, she finally caught Valen and speared her with her claws. The woman choked and gagged on her own borrowed blood.

And then her head was gone.

Bodhi found herself backed into a corner, glaring this way and that as she desperately sought an opening. It was obvious on her face that she had thought more than once to use one of them as a bargaining chip, but when Jayda failed to respond to her friends shouts, it was clear to everyone—even her—that Jayda could not be reached.

And just as the beast reached for her, the smoke of its creation returned, and more bone-piercing shrieks filled the air. Jayda jerked this way and that, colliding with the walls and knocking over columns that crumbled against her strength. Finally, she threw herself to the ground, black claws raking at the stone.

But she was shrinking, black skin becoming pale peach, razors turning to red hair, and the guttural cry of a hell beast returned to the agonized screaming of a woman. Jayda, the half-elf, clawed at the ground, jerking and twitching in pain, and her bright, amber eyes glared so violently at Bodhi that she could have seared the skin off her face.

The vampire proved no fool. She lifted her chin, swallowed hard, and then darted off into the darkness. When she was gone, all eyes went to Jayda as she struggled on the stone floor, naked, shreds of cloth barely clinging to her trembling limbs. She screamed again, a frustrated bellow, overcome with rage.

Aerie was crying by the door. She fell to the ground and sobbed into her knees. The rest of them just stood and gawked in disbelief and horror. Haer'dalis was the first to act, kneeling in front of her and gathering her into his arms. He helped her to her knees and then pulled his shirt off and dropped it over her head. She was still grunting, still choking on her own breaths, still shaking with fury.

"What is this?" Minsc muttered. "Boo is shaking, and Minsc is, too."

"By Torm… Wh… what happened?" Anomen whispered.

"The Slayer," Imoen replied, gaze locked on Jayda's bright, yellow eyes, "one of the avatar forms of Bhaal. I've read about it—before, in Candlekeep. It appeared when the Time of Troubles forced the gods to walk the land… and Bhaal left…" She didn't finish that part of the history lesson. "You became the Slayer?"

"How?" Anomen wanted to know. "Irenicus took your soul!" Jaheira placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Right now, all that is important is getting out of here," she told him.

"You've been left empty…" Imoen muttered, "empty, and it's affecting you different than me. Jayda, we've got to get our souls back before something worse happens. Before… before it takes you, takes all of you!"

Jayda nodded her agreement, a curt motion. There was so much hatred in her eyes, those eyes that were still the color of flaming amber.

"Jayda," Jaheira asked cautiously. "What is it you intend to do?"

"What my dark father created to me do," she growled. "_Murder_. Bodhi and Irenicus. Do you hear me, you witch?" she shouted at the ceiling. "I'll kill you and your brother! I'll _kill you_! Run as far as you can! I will find you and _destroy_ you!"

The pain in Jaheira's stomach returned, the poisoned flesh where Jayda's taint had touched her wriggling with the master's anger. She winced and went to Jayda, kneeled before her.

"Snap out of it!" she commanded her. "This is not who you are! Bhaal's daughter you may be, but it was Gorion who was your father! What would he think of you now?" Jaheira nearly shook her friend's shoulders. "What would _you_ think of you? Hear me, child, and return to us. This is not who you are. You are my dear friend. You are my precious charge that my husband gave his life for, and I would gladly do the same. You are the seed of a time when the gods played among us like children, and regardless of their cruelty, you have always been the master of your destiny. Do not give in to Bhaal. You do not belong to him. You belong to no one! You are your own!"

Jaheira saw the flicker of recognition in her gaze at the mention of Gorion's name. And by the end of Jaheira's speech, the blaze in her eyes had died down. And though there was still yellow streaking her irises, the familiar gray had returned.

"Jaheira," she murmured and the druid hugged her tightly. When Jayda tried to look around, she tugged her jaw to face forward.

"Don't," the druid commanded. "You were not yourself. Let us leave this place quickly… and never look back."

...

When Jaheira walked away, Jayda met Haer'dalis' eyes. As if reading her thoughts, he leaned closer to whisper to her.

"This sparrow gives you his word that he will never believe you a monster, no matter your choices or what may befall you," he promised. "You are something infinitely greater, and cannot be made less." He helped her to her feet. "This tale that is your life draws me in as few stories ever have. Glad I am to be in your company, my raven."

"Even now?"

"Especially now."

When the minotaur horn was returned to its place on the statue, the doors opened. The troupe passed through and climbed up into more darkness, the unknown, and a hope for freedom.


	27. Savvy

**Author's Note: **I wasn't entirely pleased with the outcome but seeing as its an abridged version of the game (becoming less and less abridges as time goes on) with minimal changes, I decided I didn't want to alter the confrontation of Irenicus too much. At the time I wrote it, I was all right with it (that was actually quite some time ago as I have been busy with other things and didn't want to publish it right away), but now that I've had time to re-read it, I'm not all that fond of it. But I just don't have the mental capacity currently to change it. So... apologies. :)

* * *

**Savvy**

Anomen banged on the door again and Minsc shouldered it, but it would not budge. Jayda had hoped it held better weapons, maybe some armor, _clothes_, an exit… but it looked as though they were still stuck traveling. They had climbed to a third level of the labyrinth, crossed a terrifyingly narrow bridge in a single-file line, solved a floor puzzle, balanced scales, and answered the riddle of an apparition. The hallway continued, but the random door had looked promising.

"If I had thieves tools," Imoen murmured and then glanced back at Jayda, "I'd let you do the honors."

Imoen smiled at her and Jayda tried to smile but back she could tell from the disappointed expression on her sister's face that she had failed. Since turning into the Slayer, Imoen had tried hard to lighten the mood, but Aerie was still afraid, the rest unsettled, and Jayda was… both exhausted and horrified.

"I guess we continue—" Jaheira started to say when suddenly the lock clicked open.

They pushed open the door and climbed a dark stairwell to a hallway with more stairs up and long passages that wound to the left and right. They investigated and found more staircases leading down.

"Do you think… doors from all over the labyrinth lead here?" Jaheira asked.

"it is likely," Haer'dalis replied. "This does not seem a likely stop on our asylum tour."

They continued to climb and felt a slight temperature shift. It was getting warmer. They were getting closer to the surface. A door finally appeared and Minsc twisted the valve to open it. They spilled out into a hallway and a familiar face gawked at them.

"There you are!" Saemon Havarian exclaimed. "I've been trying doors for hours." He checked over Jayda, lingering too long on her legs. "I see that you have, uhm, weathered the storms of this place with reasonable pluck and health. It does me good to see you." He cleared his throat and added, "alive."

Jayda threw herself across the room, shoved him against the wall, and put her dagger to his throat.

"Saemon," she growled. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

"Such hostility," he murmured, "and I wager it is well earned. It is, however, misdirected." He smiled and tried to move the dagger away from his throat but she pressed it tighter. He held his hands up in surrender. "I do not wish to be your enemy here. At first, it was a mere business deal, and then I had no choice in the matter. Now Irenicus pushes ever forward, and I cannot see how I will profit. Or survive, for that matter." He smiled again when she pressed harder on the blade. "I offer advice to foster a trust, and you may determine the value as you wish."

"Make your words count, pirate. They will determine your lifespan."

"Irenicus is a power, indeed. I have seen no chips in his armor of spells," he warned her. "You would need an army to face him, and I suggest that there is one to be had." He waited to see that he had their attention and gave another of his smirks. "The inmates of this place are a resource to be tapped. Release them and their anger and frustrations will strike at Irenicus."

There was a drawn out moment of silence as they let the idea settle in their heads. _Damn him_, she thought, _for making sense…_

"As much as I should not trust his adv ice, he may have a point, Jayda," Jaheira sighed. "There are powerful mages here who may be the difference between life and death."

"I know it," she muttered and lowered the dagger a few inches. "Aside from your winning personality, is there any other reason I should keep you alive, traitor?"

"Now, is that any way to speak to a new friend?" he asked. "I promise you that I am entirely on your side in this endeavor."

"Good business dictates, and all that."

"And all that," he agreed. "Besides, I happen to enjoy your company far better than theirs. As a show of good faith, I present a gift. One I am sure you will loathe to reject." He leaned closer to whisper to her. "Some pants, perhaps. Although, on you, clothes seem such a waste."

Jayda released him and backed away, remembering she was in naught but a tunic. Thank Mask it hung low enough to cover her extremities, so long as she wasn't bending over. Saemon motioned them into the hall, looked this way and that, then led them to a treasure room where their valuables had been stacked with other piles of weapons, robes, armor, and trinkets.

The group quickly dressed and collected their belongings. Jayda was relieved to feel her armor on her skin again, to hold her sword and dagger in her hands. She yanked open her backpack and found Gaelan's flower still glimmering amid her things. She smiled, thankful to have not lost it for good. She closed her pack up tight, shouldered it, and waited for the others to finish armoring themselves.

Saemon smiled. "Your things, as promised. Perhaps we're close to even now?"

"Perhaps not," Jayda replied, "but you have more than convinced me not to kill you."

"Then I'll call it a win," he said. "Now, about those prisoners…"

"You have a plan, I assume," Jaheira said as she strapped her bracers on.

"Of course," Saemon replied.

"Shocking," Anomen muttered and then yanked his boots on.

"M-maybe we should come back later," Aerie piped up, "when we're stronger."

"When we're stronger?" Imoen gaped. "What about him being stronger? If we leave now, we lose our advantage. We just give him time to gain more power!"

"But he's at his best now," Aerie reminded her. "We're far from ours. It seems to me that if we go in now, there's no hope but for a quick death!"

"And what do you think he'll give us later when he's had time to tap into Jayda's soul? _My_ soul!"

"Irenicus is a man," Jayda said, cutting them off. "He bleeds like any other." She saw the uncertain looks they gave each other. "If you aren't convinced, let me be your example. I am the child of a god… look what they've done to me."

They lowered their heads and wore looks like they were ashamed. She hadn't meant to make them feel that way, only give them focus. Hope, even. It seemed to do the opposite. With a silent sigh, she turned and, for the first time since she had met him, Saemon did not have a cocky or self-assured expression. He seemed almost sympathetic.

"Exactly," he whispered, and she knew he must be hiding his fear well. Jayda knew she had to shift the mood out of the fatalist cloud it seemed to be stuck in.

"Your plan," she said sharply. "It didn't involve us standing around uselessly, did it?"

"Actually, that was partly my role in this affair," he told her. "We'll sneak upstairs and then I'll distract the warden with," he waved his hand in the air, "miscellaneous business concerning Irenicus' test subjects and their health. When I get him into the office, you will have a small window to release the inmates. There's no security. No one comes here, and Irenicus believes you all are trapped below or dead."

"How are we to free them?" Anomen asked sharply. "Last we saw, the cages were locked up tight."

"With these," Saemon replied as he produced a large ring of black keys. He tossed it to Jayda. "Don't be fooled by the number. Lonk has an infinite number of backups—as paranoid as his prisoners. The same key opens all of the cells."

"So we rally the mages against Irenicus," Jaheira murmured thoughtfully. "I decent plan, but what of the vampire queen?"

"She took her kin through a portal earlier this evening. Where it leads, I know not, but it did not sound as though she would be coming back. Not any time soon, at any rate."

"Then he is alone," Jaheira pointed out.

"He has some rag-tag hirelings," Saemon waved nonchalantly, "but they're thugs at best. They pose no real threat. Now," he glanced out the door, "Irenicus is busy in his laboratory. Should we get a move on before he decides to venture forth?"

The group agreed and followed Saemon through a corridor and up some stairs to the lowest dormitory level. He whispered for them to wait and then he slipped out to find the warden. It didn't take long before they heard his boasting prattle. They listened until their voices got quieter and then a door slammed shut, then Jayda snuck into the hallway to check it was clear.

"We won't have time to free the others. If we can't control these inmates, they could blow our jump on Irenicus. We focus on this level and this level only."

She passed out keys to them all and then raced down the hallway. Her group split up, each running for an unopened cell. As they opened, they were told to gather in the hearth room, and Jayda could only hope they would listen. Sometimes, they had to make up reasons to go. Dili asked what face she should wear now that she was free. Jayda told her to go and she would be shown. Tiax refused at first because he insisted he ruled all and could make up his own mind; Jayda told him he would find his subjects waiting for an audience by the hearth. She did not know what the others told those they freed, but when she met up with the rest of her party and went to the designated location, a good number of inmates were squabbling to themselves.

"Silence yourself, diminutive one!" Dradeel exclaimed, pointing at Tiax. "Do you not hear the howling? Around on all sides they are!"

"You will regret the day you crossed the will of Tiax! My conquest of all is not something to be mocked!"

"Is that the rule of all you survey, or beyond? What of those that walk inside, and around, and through? That stand where you stand now?" Aphril cried.

"None stand where Tiax stands, lest he walk atop them!" the self-appointed ruler-of-all countered.

Jayda took a moment to catch her breath as she tried to find where to start with them all. She could not rally them as she would sane individuals. She would have to be clever. But how? They all had such contradicting ailments of the mind. What one might agree to, another might balk at.

Just then Saemon joined them and Jayda looked for the warden in his footsteps. He smiled and nodded to let her know they were safe, and planted his hands on his hips.

"Looks like you have your work cut out for you," he mused.

Jayda shimmied to the center of the crowd just as Tiax was getting riled up.

"Bah!" he exclaimed. "Tiax is surrounded by fools and madmen! Who is to blame for this outrage? Whom shall Tiax smite?"

"There's only one to blame!" Jayda shouted before he could unleash the spell glowing on his fingertips. "Only one man stands between you and your rule!" The whole of the crowd stopped to stare at her. "Irenicus."

There was utter silence among the madmen. Dili's quiet voice was the first to break the quiet.

"I-Irenicus?" she murmured. "I… I took his face once. His punishment was…" She whimpered and covered her head with her arms.

"To look at him is to see too far… I cannot look at him…" another murmured.

"He is cold through all the planes," Aphril agreed. "None walk where he does, though they see him not."

Many others began joining the chorus of protests. Most of them were too frightened of their tormentor to lash out at him. One other voice rose over the rest and a man in a tattered robe pushed his way through the crowd.

"He did this! He did this!" he kept screaming. "He did this! We must find him! He is the cause! He did this! He is the one that brings the tests! I will not rest until his head is mine and mine and mine and mine alone! He did this!"

Jayda gawked for a moment and then rode his momentum. "Yeah!" she exclaimed in agreement. "Against one, he may prevail." She caught Tiax's glare and, before he could protest, added, "except for Tiax. But against us all? His head is ours!" She rolled her eyes when the supporter started to speak. "Or his!"

There was a long pause before the rest of the room shouted in agreement. Relief flooded her as they all began pouring out of the room, demanding to know where the wizard was. One of them shouted that he would be running more tests, and the mob seemed to agree, offering up an exclamation of "to the dungeon!"

When they burst into the laboratory, Irenicus whirled around to face them, scattering notes across the floor.

"What is this?" It took him only a second to understand what had happened. "You escaped the labyrinth and have release all of my test subjects? How wonderfully mad of you. I didn't expect this in the least, so dangerously risky it is."

The inmates poured into the room and began shouting at him, at each other, and then they started casting spells.

"I'm glad I amuse you," Jayda yelled over the commotion. "Now I will end your life and take back what you stole from me!"

"As over-eager as ever," he snapped, throwing up defensive spells to counter what the inmates began casting, "but your boasting is wasted on me! You are no threat, not even with this… army of _madness_! Your fate has been sealed!"

"We'll see about that," Jayda growled, slowly leading her friends into the fight. There were spells flying everywhere and they did not want to get caught between them.

"Do you think your transformation will help you?" Irenicus shouted, arms waving wildly as he battled the inmates. "It won't. Your will is slowly fading! Perhaps the essence of Bhaal will raise to take you!"

Through his defensive measures, he managed to land a killing blow on one of the prisoners.

"You used me!" Imoen shrieked. "You tore apart my soul and then you ripped it from me! I'll kill you for that, Irenicus! I'll kill you!"

"Your pathetic mewlings mean even less to me than Jayda's," Irenicus balked. "Bah, I speak with madmen and soulless when I should be at my revenge!"

"Yes! Revenge!" Minsc bellowed, bearing Lilarcor. "Revenge for my precious Dynaheir! Tremble, wizard, for the mighty Boo will have your eyes!"

"What revenge do _you_ have, wizard?' Jaheira shouted angrily. "You killed my Khalid with no more thought than one would give a fly! I shall have _my_ revenge! Nature's fury shall strike you down!"

"You'll pay for what you've done to us!" Aerie shouted, but her voice barely rose above the chaos.

"And for your madness! Your evil ends here!" Anomen boomed.

"Die! All of you!" Irenicus retorted, fury evident in his face, and two more prisoners were killed.

Jayda and her companions raced forward, ducking magic as it flew against the room and rebounded off of Irenicus' shield. At first, their weapons could not penetrate his globe and they spent more time dodging his attacks than attacking him. He seemed to forget the others, however, and when he was not expecting it, a breach spell removed his protections.

His side was crushed by Jaheira's quarterstaff and a magic missile burnt his shoulder. He struggled to bring his shields back up, but there were too many attacks coming in. With his defenses down, Jayda and her companions kept him on the run, and the mages beyond gave him nothing but pain.

"To me!" he suddenly exclaimed, and the other doors to the laboratory opened. In poured two dozen thugs and the mages were forced to defend themselves. "Have your victory here, then," he hissed with ragged breath, "but know that you are dying on the inside even now! And many will join you before I am done!" He cast one last spell and a dimension door opened. "This place is yours," he told her. "I hope it is your tomb!"

"No!" Jayda screamed, lunging after him, but he stepped through the portal and was gone. "No!" she screamed again, and Jaheira grabbed her arm.

"He is gone! We must help the others."

By the time they dispatched all of the hired help, the bulk of the inmates had been slain. Only a few remained alive. Dili was one of them, and she huddled in a corner, saying nothing.

"Gone and off like the shadow flees the morn," Saemon said from the door and Jayda whirled to look at him. "You aren't going to let him fall away so easy, are you?"

"I didn't notice you in the fight," she began.

"Can't say I was present," he confessed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Such violence isn't really my thing. But in this, I could aid you—the pursuit of your wizard. See, I know a thing or two of his plans. No doubt he feels a villain is always undone in the exposition, but I overheard many a chat between him and Bodhi. I can't say for sure I know why, but he plans to attack a place called Suldanessellar."

"The elven city of the Forest of Tethir," Jaheira murmured in shock. "Why?"

"Can't say I know," Saemon replied, "but whatever he intends, he seems to expect to become more powerful than anything… than the gods, even, and that… can't be good for business, if you get my meaning."

"Greed motivates him at every turn," Anomen remarked.

"Greed? Not quite. This is self-preservation at its finest," Haer'dalis told him.

"Look, we know where he's headed," Saemon continued. "I merely suggest we go together. We'll take my ship straight to Tethir—we might even cut him off."

"You're sailing _into_ danger?" Imoen asked and crossed her arms over her chest. "What's the catch?"

"There are no secret conditions on my help," he replied. "I merely seek your friendship, or at least your pardon. I require allies if I am to survive this nightmare."

Jayda glanced around at the others and then nodded, beckoning him to lead the way. They made a few stops to check in the rooms where he and Bodhi had stayed, finding nothing of use except for a book. When she opened its crinkled pages, she quickly realized it was the wizard's journal, and so she tucked it into her pack for later reading. They came to the grand hall of golden and blue where they had first come into this asylum—a day that felt like a thousand years ago—and exited into the sunlight.

"By Baervan," Aerie whispered, smiling up at the sky. "It has been too long since I have seen a more precious sight…"

/

When they were back in town, Saemon gifted them coin and excused himself to see to business, so they sought the Vulgar Monkey. When they were washed and fed, Aerie and Imoen were sent up to get some rest. The remainder of the group slowly sipped their ales, waiting for some sign of life from their pirate contact.

Anomen made a few passing comments that he had abandoned them after all, but Jaheira set him straight when she pointed out the fact that they were drinking of the pirate's coin, and no pirate had ever concocted a plan that lost him money. Haer'dalis had agreed and pointed out the fact that he had waited for them to deal with Irenicus so that he could offer them aid. Anomen merely mumbled that there was always a catch.

After the tavern began to clear, Saemon made his appearance.

"I am glad to see you," he sighed, exasperated, as he plopped into an available chair, "though our meeting is colored by the unfortunate events I must relate. I had hoped them settled, but I am denied." Saemon gave a dramatic pause before he continued. "I have no ship with which to offer passage. It has been scuttled in an act of the purest malice. Such villainy I am subjected to!"

"Villainy!" Anomen balked. "I'll show you villainy!" But Minsc pulled him back down into his chair even as he stood up.

"You think us fools?" Jaheira asked pointedly. "You knew your ship was scuttled when you first spoke to us, didn't you?"

He looked offended and brought his hands to his chest. "It does my spirit harm that you think I would try and—"

"Saemon," Jayda said, giving him a look that told him to not to play.

"Perhaps I did not have my ship on hand," he reluctantly told them, "but my intentions were well and true. My sole purpose is to find you transport!" He smacked the table to emphasize his point. "And it seems that would best be done by procuring me a new ship."

Everyone at the table exchanged disbelieving glances so Saemon cleared his throat.

"Well," he went on, "it just so happens there is a commendable ship in port—a fine vessel worthy of you and your companions."

"There are many ships in port, pirate, and I am sure several of them would be willing to offer us passage," Jaheira reminded him.

"Perhaps, but on what coin?" he rebutted. "Booking passage isn't cheap, and most of these ships make port as a mere rest between destinations. It would be best to strike out on our own with this ship I have in mind!" He took a large gulp of ale when the serving wench set his mug in front of him. "And it so happens the commandeering of said vessel would exact a revenge of sorts."

"Ah, we are tools of yet another man's madness." Haer'dalis sighed with a smile. "Tell us, crow, who has wronged you so."

"It was the pirate lord that so maliciously disabled my vessel and the pirate lord that claims a perfectly serviceable ship of his own."

"Desharik's ship?" Jayda asked, and there was a hint of unease in her voice.

"Aye, the Leviathan," Saemon replied. "It's moored at the docks with little security considering how everyone fears him. Under cover of night, we could take it most easy."

"A ship like that? And where are we to find a crew to sail this beast?" Jaheira wanted to know.

"It just so happens that most of my crew remained in port. We'll have our crew. We simply have to make sure the sea gate is open for the bay to be clear."

"I sense a catch," the druid mumbled, narrowing her gaze on him. Saemon looked into every face at the table and then took another sip of his ale.

"The sea gate can only be opened by a horn that Desharik keeps. Well, to be more specific, a horn that Desharik allows his lady Cayia to keep. Had I the luxury of time, I might try to woo her for it, as she is of _suspect_ morality."

"As is her fiend of a lover," Anomen snarled.

"I've no doubt. Still. We do not have the time, and you're the thief." He pointed at Jayda. "As you work, I will see to clearing the docks of those that would report us, and we shall be off in the night before any is the wiser."

The others started to protest, but Jayda's voice rose above theirs.

"Okay," she agreed. "Tell me about this horn."

"Jayda, you can't be serious!" Anomen exclaimed.

"We have to get off this island," she reminded him, then looked at her pirate ally. "Saemon."

"The horn is ornate and beautiful," he told her, "but otherwise simple in its design. The best time to try to steal it would be at night. I hear it hangs in Cayia's bedroom, and that is the only time it would be unguarded."

"Guarded by the sleeping," Jaheira corrected him. "Would her pirate lover not be with her?"

"Possibly. You may wish to step lightly once inside her home. A risk, yes, but not as risky as some of our other options."

"No?" Anomen mumbled bitterly. "I don't recall discussing any of those."

"I'll get your horn, Saemon," Jayda said and leaned forward on the table. "And so help me, if you cross me for _any_ reason—good business or otherwise—I will slit your throat open so wide, you'll be smiling with your neck all the way to the Nine Hells."

"I believe you," he replied. "I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die." And then he flashed one of his usual smiles.

"You just might…" Jaheira murmured.

"Boo does not approve of this hope for death," Minsc announced, "but if you are so inclined, Boo and I recall clearly your dastardly betrayal and would happily exact justice against you."

"My friend, if I betray you—again—then you are the only one I would have exact justice. Now," he gulped down the rest of his ale and stood up, "if you'll excuse me, I'll go and see to our needs for a quick departure. I suggest you get some rest, and tomorrow night… we act."

Saemon nodded to them all and was gone. It didn't take long for the rest of them to give up their ales and chairs for beds, and so they parted ways. At the top of the stair landing, before Jayda could go to into her room, Haer'dalis called to her.

"May I speak with you a moment, my raven?" he asked, and she nodded and let him into her room. When the door closed behind them, he waited for her to take her boots off and move behind the dressing screen to change for bed before he continued. "I want you to know I have absolute faith in your ability and skill."

"You do not have to flatter me, Haer'dalis," she called from behind the screen. "Please feel free to say whatever it is you must. We are friends."

He saw in the candlelight the faintest outline of her silhouette and admired the idea of her form almost as much as he was sure he would admire her body; in the asylum's labyrinth, he had scarcely looked at her nakedness and thought only to cover her. For a moment, he had felt her in his arms, and even under such somber circumstances, the memory had pleased his imagination.

"If I see it necessary to compliment you, my raven, it is not because this sparrow feels he must soothe your temperament, but because he knows his words to be truth. However, if you wish it, I shall speak plainly. After your previous encounter with Desharik, I do not think this burden should fall to you."

"Haer'dalis—"

"My raven, I would not present you with protest and not offer a solution. I will obtain the horn for you."

"Are you a thief, tiefling?"

"I am a bard, and we are thieves in other respects."

"I won't be dealing with Desharik," she reminded him.

"You'll be dealing with his property, and that is close enough."

"He doesn't have the horn. Cayia has it—"

"And she is Desharik's lover!"

"He won't even be there—"

"He might," he insisted.

"I should've known better," she murmured, throwing him off-guard. "I shouldn't have underestimated him… But I wasn't in my right mind, I wasn't at my best. I should have been better than him. I should have been able to handle the situation—"

"My raven, tormenting oneself with what might have been is a practice I thoroughly abhor, and it is one you should abandon," he gently scolded her. She twisted out from behind the screen and looked at him with eyes that burned his soul. "There are many reasons why things happen as they do and can be blamed on no one specific thought or action. Enough has transpired to break even the mightiest of men, and yet you persevere. That is… inspiring to me. Let me do this for you."

Jayda gave in and nodded then walked to her bed and sat down, curling her feet into her knees. She wore a causal tunic and soft pants, not a gown a lady might wear. He knew the reason: if battle or travel was suddenly upon her, she could go at a moment's notice. It was so like her. And one side of her shirt almost slipping off her shoulder was alluring in a way she would never understand.

"What is your plan?" she wanted to know, so he sat on the bed next to her.

"Just as the crow suggested: I will seduce the lady Cayia. I know our pirate seemed to think there wasn't time enough for such endeavors, but he is not me. If she is as they claim, I will have her affections and an invitation to her bed before the day is done, I assure you. I have yet to meet a woman I could not charm, save you, my raven."

"Haer'dalis—"

He held up a hand to silence her and smiled. "Now, now, my raven. I must be my best if I am to win us this victory. It has been some time since this sparrow graced a stage, and practice is needed."

"Practice," she mumbled with a smile and gently shoved his shoulder. "I doubt you've practiced a day in your life. I am quite sure you left your mother's womb charming even the hardest of men into adoring you." There was a flicker of regret in her expression and she frowned. "Haer'dalis, are you sure? I do not want you to do anything you do not wish. Seducing a stranger for… for the group's sake…"

"For _your_ sake. You can say it, raven. Or does the idea discomfort you?"

"A bit," she confessed. "I don't like to ask anyone to make sacrifices of themselves for me."

"And yet you do the same, without thought or hesitation. And so we are clear on the subject: you did not ask me, I volunteered."

"Still," she continued, "if you didn't want to, I wouldn't blame you."

He tilted his head curiously at her. "Such concern for someone so strange," he said gently. "It was not long ago that we were introduced. I am no Jaheira or Minsc or Imoen that has traveled with you years of your journey."

"No," she agreed, "but it's hard not to grow close to people who face death beside you, day after day."

"Truly," he murmured.

"And what of you? As you said, we haven't known each other long. What keeps you at my side through chaos and madness, danger and near death? You have faced vampires and wizards with me, faced the beast of Bhaal that I became, and yet you remain. Offering of yourself." She fixed with him a stare he couldn't have avoided even if he'd wanted to. "Such concern for someone so strange…"

He had words for that, but none that he could get away with speaking. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Only time would tell.

"As you said." He gently touched her cheek. "Rest now, my raven. Tomorrow, you may look for me but not find me. Worry not, for in the heart of night, I will return to you and I will do so bearing the horn of our salvation."

Jayda nodded and laid down. He stood up and turned to go, but glanced back on a whim he couldn't fully explain. Within seconds, he saw that she had fallen asleep and knew how tired she must have been. He remained to watch her for awhile, filled with wonder and warmth for this strange Prime he had come to know. Of all the stories he had written and told, heard and recounted, hers had moved him the most, and his fingers itched for the remembering, tongue salivated for the telling. And curiously enough, his heart burned for the chance to be a part of it, to be with her as she faced this great destiny.

When he left her room and quietly closed the door, he was surprised to find Anomen gaping at him as he came down the hall. Haer'dalis paused and wondered what the knight's reaction might be.

"Have you no shame?" Anomen gasped, finally finding his voice. "She is exhausted from her ordeal, and you seek your own pleasures?"

"Great Dane, I am unsure what you think has transpired, but I assure you that it was nothing the raven did not willingly entertain." He knew exactly what the knight thought, but couldn't help teasing him. "Believe me when I say I did not add to her exhaustion, but rather relieved her burdens and stress as well as any thoughtful creature of my skill and talent could."

"You—" he sputtered, flustered.

"Do not trouble yourself, Dane. She is fast asleep now, and will have all the rest she needs. And now I will get mine for the morrow. I will need it if I am to steal the horn for her."

Anomen's glare turned to confusion. "You?"

"I offered to go in her stead, so that she would not be burdened by ill memories," he explained and touched the knight's shoulder in understanding. "She has agreed to let me do this. So, tomorrow, you will watch out for her in my stead?"

Anomen nodded. "I always watch out for her."

"Of course," he agreed. "Now if you'll excuse me…" And he withdrew to his room.


	28. The Strange Tide

**The Strange Tide**

In the dead of night, Saemon's seadogs slipped onto the docks and dispatched the watchmen guarding the Leviathan. With the help of Jayda and her companions, they claimed the ship without raising an alarm. The pirates crawled busily and quietly over the deck and beneath it, preparing her for departure, and the adventurers stood guard. As Saemon idly shifted from one foot to the other, he murmured about how the tiefling was late, how she really should have gotten the horn on her own, how if they were just calm and patient enough that everyone would be okay. The reality was that Saemon was the only one of the lot who was brimming with nervous energy.

Jayda wondered why, but his shuffling was more an annoyance than a curiosity. She lead him a few feet away from the others and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Saemon. Calm down before you bring the whole of the island down on us. I've never seen you so… out of sorts. Is there something I should know?"

"Only that I'm itching to get out of port, and the longer we wait here, the greater the risk of being seen whisking away the Pirate Lord's own vessel. That isn't like to be a good experience for any of us."

"Aye, we always knew the risks." She narrowed her gaze on him. "There's something you aren't telling me."

"I may have, once upon a time, wooed the faithless Cayia and earned a permanent black mark in Desharik's ledger. It may or may not be the reason we lost my vessel in the first place."

"I knew it," she sighed.

"And it may be this plan coming together is the only way to save all our skins."

"Saemon," she stepped closer, not liking the desperation with which he spoke; betrayals were often born out of desperation. "You will only get this ship over my very… very alive body. Is that clear?"

"Ah, ahm…" he mumbled, eyeing her oddly. "Congratulations, you have rendered me speechless. My, but the tide is carrying me to distant and wondrous lands tonight."

"I suppose," she said slowly, cautiously. What wondrous lands? Freedom? She didn't think too hard on it, still surprised by a speechless Saemon, even if it was only speechless in sentiment rather than reality.

"I would not have dared offer myself, given what… ah, transpired while you were on board the last time," he said carefully, "but had I known you were interested, well… now waiting doesn't seem so bad."

"I… suppose…" Now she was even more confused, and extremely wary of the strange glint in his eyes.

As she stood there trying to figure out what he meant by offer himself, he reached out to put his arms around her. And then it all became clear. With a swift elbow to his gut, she watched him back away.

"You keep any offers of that nature to yourself, pirate, or must I sic Jaheira on you?"

His smile was strained and his nod a jerk of the head. Clearly, he had no wish to confront the exotic druid again anytime soon.

"I meant only that if you betray me—"

He held up his hand. "Rest assured, I have no intention of traveling that poor path again."

"Then while we understand one another, I have no intention of letting Desharik or anyone else harm the Captain sailing me away from this place. We're clear on that as well, aren't we?"

"Aye, we're clear," he said and stood upright, still tenderly touching his gut.

"And don't touch me again," she added and then started back toward the group.

"Well, now that I can't promise," he told her as he followed her. He smiled at the glare she flashed over her shoulder.

They returned to the others and went back to waiting. Another hour stole by and then Haer'dalis broke through the fog bearing the horn in his fist.

"We best be off quickly, my raven," he told her. "Are the preparations complete?"

"Aye, they're close," Saemon answered. "We're about ready to set sail. If you please…" And he dipped into a bow, motioning everyone to board.

It took another half an hour before Saemon began calling shouts and commands to cast off. And as he put the horn to his lips, a shout from the dock stopped him.

"Saemon Havarian!" Desharik roared.

"Ah hell," the pirate muttered and whispered something to a seaman next to him.

Jayda tensed at the sound of the Pirate Lord's voice and scanned the docks, regardless of her apprehension, and spotted him crossing with a score of thugs backing him. In Desharik's tight grip, a tiny woman was held, her head lolling from side to side as he thrashed her about with each heavy footstep. She could only guess the girl to be Cayia, but what had he done to her?

"Havarian! You've gone too far this time!" Desharik shouted when he came closer to the ship.

Saemon skipped across the deck and hopped up onto the railing, gripping the rigging to hold himself steady.

"If I have wronged you in some fashion," he began, swaying with the rope, "I am _dreadfully_ sorry. I was not aware of any offense."

"Oh, your pretty words are wasted on me, cur. I have seen your like a dozen times over and buried them all!" He withdrew his sword with his free hand. "Did you not learn your lesson the first time?" He shook Cayia. "Your ship was not enough of a warning not to come near the wench again?"

"'Twas not _I_ who wooed her from your bed this time," Saemon told him. And behind him, the seamen slowly moved this way and that, and Jayda knew they were operating under some silent order from their captain. "Perhaps you should see to the many other suitors your mistress keeps! Have you talked to them yet?"

"Kill him," Cayia murmured groggily. "Kill the scoundrel, Desharik! His mouth will spew nothing but lies."

"Your mouth is no better," the Pirate Lord growled. "How else would he have gotten the gate horn if not by taking your company again?"

"What did you do to her?" Jayda whispered to Haer'dalis.

"A sleeping word," he whispered back. "Clearly, Desharik came too early."

"No… Desharik, I didn't…" Cayia was rambling. "I swear! You know my feelings for you…"

"Shut your whoring mouth, ditch-pig. You," he pointed his sword at Saemon. "Trading falsehoods, cuckoldry, and now my ship suffers your touch. I won't leave you your life this time. Men!"

And the group of pirates began moving toward the ship.

"Sir," Saemon began rather confidently, "you must believe that I am totally sincere when I say Leviathan! Cast off!" And the ship lurched forward and began moving away from the dock. "Farewell, Desharik! And thank you for the use of your ship!"

"Board her!" the Pirate Lord growled, and his crew rushed forward, leaping over the water and scrambling to grab the railing. Several fell into the sea but more made it onto the side of the ship. Desharik angrily flung Cayia into the water and followed his crew onto the Leviathan; the woman shrieked and gurgled, flapping around in the water in shock.

Jayda, her company, and the crew all pulled their weapons and met the enemy on the port side. The sound of the horn signaling the sea gate overlapped the clash of steel three times. And then there was just shouting and fighting.

Jayda immediately went toward the Pirate Lord, eyes deadlocked in angry vengeance. When he saw her, his jaw slacked in shock and then his lips curled upward in grim satisfaction. There was absolute hatred in his smile. That pleased her.

"I knew you were no whore," he growled at her, casually slapping her blades to test her strength. "Or are you? One of Saemon's hired swords, but are you a hired sheath as well? And where is your barbarian lackey? Are you his sheath as well? I owe him for last time."

She found herself smirking, found the embers bouncing excitedly inside of her. The friction was small, but it was there, and she was waiting for that heat to bloom, that fire to spark. He slapped at her blades a few more times as they circled one another, clearly underestimating her, and spat more degrading slurs.

"How did it feel to be powerless?" he taunted her. "How did it feel to be nearly taken against your will? I bet you'd like it if I did it again, wouldn't you? Don't worry, after I cut the heart out of your friend, there will be nothing to stand in our way. After what you did to my home, I have many delightful torments planned for you. I'll go real slow this time so you can enjoy the experience thoroughly!"

Jayda suddenly slipped past his casual guard and locked their swords in tight.

"Perhaps you should hire Saemon's sword for this sheath, because I recall shattering yours. Can you even draw it anymore?"

He growled, letting his rage show plainly on his face. "I can draw it, and I will cut you to pieces before the end."

"That's fascinating," she murmured. "Tell me, Desharik, did it hurt when I crushed those tiny pearls you call your balls? Or did you even feel it?"

She kicked him backward and swung hard, deftly ducking and countering his heavy-handed attacks. He had a powerful swing like Minsc, but he was slow and overcome with anger. His battlerage was nothing compared to her ranger's, and she knew that as he was now, he was easy prey. That made toying with him all the more tempting, and she found herself constantly dancing beyond his reach before she darted in and landed several serious blows.

Desharik followed her clumsily across the deck and between the fighters, hacking and stomping after a creature that moved with grace and speed.

"I'll kill you!" he roared, not even noticing how his men were being cut down or thrown overboard. "I'll cut your head off and mount it on my bow!"

They continued to battle, and the embers stirred anxiously within her, but they did not ignite. She found herself disappointed, wanting nothing more than to unleash her fury on the Pirate Captain. She cursed herself the next moment; her soul for revenge? That was just what Bhaal wanted. The longer she toyed with him, the more she enjoyed controlling his life, and knew she had to put her anger aside.

But she couldn't. She couldn't stop. She was locked into the fight, unable to pull away. CLASH. CLASH. CLASH. She beat him back, beat him down, and lurched forward for the killing. Then suddenly a cry went up.

"The ship is ours!"

And she stopped with the tips of her sword and dagger at his throat and heart. All the boarders had completely fallen and they had passed over the sea gate, but she hadn't even noticed until that moment. She had forgotten the others had been there at all. The others turned their blades to Desharik, demanding his surrender. Once he saw he had lost, he dropped his weapon and glared at her. He noticed Minsc sidle up beside her and bared his teeth angrily. His gaze shifted when Saemon cut through the crowd, wearing a victorious smirk.

"Now what to do with you. Should we put the nasty pirate lord in the brig? Or leave him to out-swim the sharks to shore?"

"You will live to regret this, Saemon Havarian," Desharik growled.

"Mm," Saemon nodded, "you're half-right." And then suddenly he put a knife to the Pirate Lord's throat. "Am I gracious enough to give you your life? Or shall I leave you stranded as you left me?" He smiled. "I'm a fair man, Desharik…" And then he turned to his crew and declared, "to the sharks!"

The men hoisted their enemy up, carried him to the railing, and tossed him overboard, all cheering and shouting and taunting the humiliated ex-pirate lord. She had to remind herself over and over again that this was fair. If she had taken his life, it would have been Bhaal's work, not hers. And yet Desharik had tried to ravage her out of his own depravity, not for the sake of murder. She had not regretted Mae'Var's death. Was this a more dangerous killing because she wanted it so much more? Because she had felt, for a moment, powerless? Or because she had become the manifestation of Bhaal… and was terrified of losing herself again? Perhaps entirely. Perhaps… forever.

Jayda slung the blood from her sword, watched the spatter from where she'd wounded Desharik decorate the deck. Her eyes caught Saemon's as he turned toward the helm. She had to be grateful even if she didn't want to. He had spared her a revenge-killing at a point when she might not have been able to handle it. The Instinct was always there… the embers always smoldering, waiting…

She sighed and turned, retreating to her designated cabin.

/

The Slums smelled just as she remembered them, and all of the familiar sounds filled her ears. She walked through the alleyway searching, turning every corner with hope. She was looking for him. She had been waiting so long to see him again. But where was he?

As the Copper Coronet came into view, she felt fingers hook around her arm and pulled her around. Gaelan grinned at her and her heart skipped a beat, or several.

"Ye were lookin' for me?" he asked, eyes sparkling. He knew the answer.

"Gaelan," Jayda whispered and hugged him. His arms wrapped tightly around her and, for a moment, the horror of the last few months seemed a bad dream. His lips found her mouth in a hungry kiss, and she clawed at his black hair in yearning. "I… I missed you…" It was hard for her to admit. It was almost like saying she had feelings for him.

His nose nuzzled in her hair, her neck, her cheek. He began suckling on her throat, tongue lashing across her skin. She sighed in pleasure and waited for the reciprocated words but they never came. A flicker of doubt ran through her. Why did he not say it back? Did he not feel the same? Had he not missed her? _Of course he didn't,_ a voice in her head told her. _He's a thief, a scoundrel. He's had many women since you were gone. What was there to miss?_ Jayda swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, fingers wrapping around his arms, nails digging into his shirt. That wasn't true, was it?

He lifted his lips to her ear. "Ye were gone for so long," he groaned.

"I know." She gasped when he began nipping at her flesh, nibbling her neck and shoulder and arm. Every bite stirred the embers, made her hotter inside. "But I'm back now."

"Ye said ye weren't coming back," he reminded her.

"But I am back. I came back." She met his gaze. "I came back for you…"

He grinned again, and she smiled back.

"You come too late," he said in a voice that was not his own.

Her face fell, heart stopped, chest hurt. She came… too late? She had thought of him every day since she'd left Athkatla, she had fought her way back to Amn, and now he was telling her she was too late? It had been her own fault, after all. She had left him, rejected him, lied to him. She was the one that said she would never come back. This was her doing.

And then suddenly she wasn't in the Slums anymore. She was in the library of Candlekeep. She flinched away from Gaelan's arms and cringed when he laughed. His black hair grew out to a familiar shade of rebellious pink, blue eyes became green, and then Imoen was standing before her.

"You come too late," she said. "Didn't I say you would come too late? You will learn to trust me."

"Imoen," Jayda murmured, upset and unsure.

"Don't be afraid. You are safe here… if you behave. I will show you what fills the void. What is now free."

And then she knew. "You are not Imoen."

"No," the woman agreed. "I lurk behind your soul, in the very fiber of your being. I am the only thing left when mind and reason are stripped away."

The creature masquerading as Imoen stalked toward her and Jayda stepped back, drawing away from it.

"The Instinct," Jayda said and the creature nodded.

"I will show you what you can be, what you can do… if you simply let yourself become what you are. I can show you all of this, because I am within. I am what fills the void. I am you!"

The Slayer ripped out of the visage of Imoen, leapt free of the mortal constraints, and roared. The horrible noise filled the library, echoed off the walls, and the fires of the Abyss seemed to rattle behind each stone and book. Jayda stumbled back, secured her footing, and reached for her blades, but they were gone. She held her fists up, fear pouring through her. In that moment, she knew beyond any shadow of doubt that she would be devoured.

"Do not fear me," the Slayer's deep, garbled voice told her, "for I am you, I am within. Do not fear yourself." The Slayer stepped closer to her. "You are to be given a gift. It is a rare thing not even the most powerful of mortals can boast to claim. There is great power in your heritage. Use it, and you will become closer to who you are… what you could be. Leave those that would hold you back, abandon them, and become what you must."

The ground opened up beneath her feet but she did not fall. The darkness rushed up to meet her and she felt the invisible currents undulating over her skin. It felt like strength, like iron, like invincibility.

"Feel what is in the void," the Slayer told her. "Use the tools that you are given. Become part of something greater. I am in you, and I know what is best."

"Np!" Jayda cried. "You may be within, but I am still me! I won't let you take over my mind!"

The Slayer grunted and black smoke poured out of its mouth.

"Perhaps you lose yourself in the end," it said, "but you will go to a greater reward than you can know!"

Jayda screamed, feeling the embers burning up inside. The fire had come, had begun consuming her. She fell to the ground and her hands shot out to claw at the marble floor as the pain twisted inside of her. That's when she saw that her arms were not her own. They were long, black limbs covered in shiny scales and her fingers were razor-sharp talons.

"No!" she shrieked, twisting and jerking in agony. "No!"

But she could not stop the transformation. Her shout became unearthly screeches and her mind was overcome with rage.

"After all, what does an eternity of nothingness matter," the Slayer's voice barked from all around her, "when you can destroy all that would oppose you!"

And then her claws were ripping at the sudden image of Sarevok. _One_, the voice said. Bodhi appeared, laughing over Gaelan's corpse, and she ripped the vile creature apart. _Two_. Irenicus lifted his arms and magic rained from the sky, but she felt no pain. She screamed in anger and tore through him, tore through the image of the Slayer that appeared next. _Three, four._ And then there was darkness. _Five_, the voice whispered, and Jayda whirled around.

There in the black was her dark father, Bhaal, and he was laughing at her. Her screech rose above his mirth and black smoke poured out of her gaping jaw and she brought it down over his head and snapped shut.

/

Jaheira glanced at Jayda's sweating form as she grunted and jerked in her sleep. Anomen and Aerie were sleeping peacefully in other hammocks nearby and the others were off somewhere else. Her gaze returned to Minsc's worried brow and noted how the low-burning candle made the lines look even more drawn.

"When we get to port, I think we should continue on without the others," she said quietly. "You, Jayda, and I can continue on alone after Irenicus and Bodhi."

"Alone?" he echoed. "Boo does not understand. Why would we abandon the others?"

"It isn't abandonment. It's for their own good. This mission is dangerous—"

"But wasn't it always so? Boo agrees that we have always been in danger."

"Not like this." She leaned closer. "Minsc, you saw what happened to her down there in that labyrinth. She became the Slayer. Before, she had always been in control of her blood, but now… if she turns again, she could turn on _us_. You and I swore an oath to Gorion and to her."

"An oath I recall the others swearing, at least to Jayda," Minsc reminded her.

"And we hold those oaths fulfilled. They vowed to help her find Imoen, and we have. But they cannot come where we follow. It is too risky. I'm not sure they can handle any more surprises. I'm not sure they could handle Jayda turning again. You saw Anomen. He was confused! He was afraid. He was wary. And Aerie? She was petrified, crippled in fear—"

"Aerie is Minsc and Boo's witch! We cannot leave her behind. We swore an oath to protect our witch and we must do so to fulfill our dajemma!"

"Where we go, we may never return," Jaheira said quietly. "Your dajemma will go undone if you do not survive this, Minsc."

"But Aerie—"

"Do you want Aerie to become another Dynaheir?" she whispered, and Minsc stared at her in horror. "She is a talented mage and a fair healer, but she is young and soft. Don't you want to spare her what is to come? Against Jayda, if the blood takes over, or if Irenicus with his newfound power becomes too much to handle… we may lose Aerie… may lose the others. Haven't we already lost enough loved ones?"

"Boo and I could never forgive ourselves if we lost Aerie the way that we lost Dynaheir," he agreed. "Perhaps pressing on without them is for the best. But what of Imoen?"

"Her as well," Jaheira replied.

"But how will we regain her soul?"

"The loss of her soul has not affected her as harshly as it has Jayda, and we should not risk bringing another Slayer into the world. Perhaps Anomen and Aerie could be persuaded to protect Imoen, though their loyalty lies with Jayda, not the other, I'm afraid. Once we have found a solution, we can find Imoen and restore her."

"And the bard?" Minsc asked.

"Him I do not worry over. He goes where he will, and he thrives on the chaos. Tomorrow, his whims may take him elsewhere, but I believe he will follow Jayda for quite some time. It will be good to have an extra blade for the trials to come." Minsc nodded to Jaheira's probing gaze. "Minsc," she continued seriously. "We cannot speak of this to them. They will not understand and they certainly will not agree. We will come to Jayda with our plan when we land. I'm sure she will side with our decision."

"Boo understands, and so do I. Not a word of this we will speak to the others."

"No," Imoen said, slipping out of a shadow near the door. "How can you agree to that? How can you leave us behind?"

"Imoen," Jaheira said between clenched teeth, agitation plain in her tone and expression. "I should have known you'd be eavesdropping on things that do not concern you."

"Doesn't concern me? The Nine Hells it doesn't! You want to leave me behind! But you can't! This is my fight, too! My soul was taken, too!"

"And we will find a way to get it back, but we will do it without you and the others parading through danger."

"I'm used to danger, remember?" she argued. "I was there when Sarevok burned the Sword Coast and when we killed him. I was there when Irenicus took us. I was tortured at his very hands! I survived the Asylum!"

"Only to see your sister become Bhaal!" Jaheira hissed, getting to her feet. "If you continue down this path, you may become him as well!"

"Jayda would never allow this—"

"You know she will. She would carry on without all of us if she could."

"So why do you two get to go? What's so special about you, huh?"

Jaheira and Minsc exchanged glances and then the druid sat down again.

"Because," she said, "we have already lost everything that mattered to us."

"And I haven't?" Imoen exclaimed, and Jayda grunted again. "They took my _soul_, Jaheira."

"Your innocence remains, as does the light-hearted spirit that suppressed Bhaal all these years. Not like her… We have no idea what was done to her, taken from her—not Minsc or I or even you. She needs all the strength she can get right now. She will persevere better going into this fight knowing that you and the others are safe."

Imoen swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes misty with concern but still glaring with rebellion.

"I won't leave her," she insisted.

"It isn't up to you, child," Jaheira said. "Now get some sleep. There is no use carrying on about it now. The hour is late."

Imoen frowned but slumped into her bunk anyway. Minsc rolled back onto his cot and Jaheira blew out the candle.

/

Jayda gasped and shot up, panting and sweating in the dark. The dream had unnerved her to the core, and her clothes were damp with sweat. She felt herself to make sure she was still her and not the Slayer, but it did not make her feel any better. She slid out of bed and checked Imoen who was sleeping peacefully with one leg and arm hanging off the side of her bed. She snorted and mumbled something about lemon cake and kobolds then rolled over.

Jayda fished Gaelan's flower out of her pack and went above deck for some fresh air. The moon was full in a clear sky and the ocean breeze on her damp skin made her shiver. She went to the starboard side and took a seat with her legs through the rails, hugging the flower close to her chest.

Instead of the Slayer, she tried to think of good thoughts, of Gaelan, but every time she tried, she remembered the dream and how Gaelan had told her she had come too late. She remembered her fears that he had busied himself with many women and had not missed her. It left an awful feeling in her gut. She inhaled the flower's sweet aroma then stared at the red petals and tried to remember everything he had said to her.

_I slept with ye against better judgment 'cause I wanted ye, and I continue to do so 'cause I still want ye. And I haven't slept with anyone but you ever since 'cause yer all I want anymore._ He had said that to her. He had meant it, she knew. He never would've said so if he didn't. They weren't supposed to love each other. They were supposed to be business, no more. But he hadn't felt that way…

And neither had she. She had opened up to him in a way she hadn't with anyone. Perhaps it was because he was her stranger—a dark man like her that she would never see again, that she had no allegiance to, that saw her as gold coins and nothing more. And she had spilled her guts, and cried to his face. And he had held her and told her that no matter what she said… she was just a thief to him.

And that's when she knew she had truly fallen for him.

The sound of footsteps behind her startled her and she snapped her head up to look upon Haer'dalis. He smiled down at her and pointed at the flower.

"The crimson rhodelia," he said. "'Tis the flower of lovers, of vengeance, and of warriors. It is remarkable you have come to possess one. They would be hard to come by this far from the mainland."

"I… brought it from Athkatla," she admitted.

"Ah, I see. You've kept it hidden well. Perchance did your thief friend give it to you?"

She cut her gaze to his, silently threatening him to back off. He held up his hands in surrender.

"You're drenched, my raven, and pale as the moon. Are you all right? What illness has befallen you?" He reached out and touched her forehead and cheeks.

"I'm fine," she promised him. "I just… I had a nightmare."

"A vicious vision to have left you so affected."

She just shrugged, hoping her silence would be a big enough hint that she didn't want to talk about it. He seemed to understand and so they watched the moon's reflection shimmer on the dark ocean for a long while before she broke the silence.

"Thank you for what you did back in Brynnlaw," she said.

"It was nothing, my raven. I was pleased to do it. I am only sorry I was not able to buy us a clean escape."

"You did everything you could. Thank you."

"Mm." He smiled. "This life of adventure and travel is a true delight to this sparrow. 'Tis the thrill of the unknown that appeals to this sparrow most, that tantalizing promise of mysteries and secrets waiting just 'round the next bend. Tell me, raven, do you enjoy it?"

"Well…" She blew out a long sigh and her red hair danced along her brow. "I could not imagine my life any other way."

"No? Not even imagine?"

"Well, I imagine," she confessed, "but none of it ever feels real… only fantasies and dreams."

"And what do you dream of, my raven?"

"Settling down somewhere." She shrugged one shoulder, idly fingering the flower's stem as she looked out at the water. "I would be a thief in the night, and only local garrisons would know my name." She grinned at his bewildered expression. "There's thrill in thieves' work," she assured him, "and danger as well. Though none of it anything like the danger we face now, day after day. I wouldn't mind continuing to help others, adventurer's work here and there. But a place to return to? I wouldn't shun it."

"My raven wants a home."

"Is that mad?" she asked with a grin.

"Ah, madness—beautiful and terrible, wise and reckless. We are all of us mad in our own ways, my raven, have no doubt of that." He reached out to brush her hair from her face. "There are many places to go, Jayda, and many homes that could be found."

"Well," she cleared her throat and looked away, "I suppose when this ordeal is done, I will have plenty of shopping around to do."

He laughed and murmured his agreement. After a moment, he stretched and bumped her shoulder.

"My radiant half-goddess, tell me… what drove you from your fair home amongst the monks and books?"

"Radiant half-goddess?" she echoed, but he interrupted her.

"Was it all not exciting enough to keep you captivated? You said you long for a home and yet you left yours. My curiosity is overflowing."

"I thought you'd have heard the stories about that by now."

"Aye, that I have. But as you well know, I prefer my sources untainted, and your version is of far more interest to me than the mumbled ramblings of some unskilled berk who dares call himself a teller of tales."

"This… isn't really a conversation I want to have right now…"

"Of course not," he said. "We can always go back to talking about your dreams of a home and a life beyond all this, perhaps the thief it is you imagine sharing your lock picks with?"

Jayda cleared her throat and began recounting her flight from Candlekeep and Gorion's murder. For some reason, she found it easier to talk about what had already happened to her regardless of how painful it was than to talk about the unknown, which bore an unknown potential for pain.

When it was all retold, Haer'dalis stared solemnly out at the water and nodded knowingly.

"To have someone die for you must have been shocking," he murmured. "People die because of you all the time, but to have someone give of his life freely to see you live is rather… uncommon. 'Tis a rare person who can inspire such devotion."

She looked at him pointedly. "You always say something to try to make the horrors better, to make _me_ better. But I'm not. I'm not rare, Haer'dalis, god-blood aside. I've done nothing to warrant the sacrifice. I've been running, struggling, trying to survive—same as anyone."

"It's not the same. I know how deeply you crave normality, but you are preceded by and followed by chaos. _You_ are entropy, merely by existing. And you bravely walk this road, and you make the chaos bend to you, around you, for you. Others would be driven mad by it, but not you! And others see that, we see that strength, and we rally around you."

"I never asked to be a leader. I don't know why people follow me."

"Don't you?" he asked, and she felt frozen under his intense stare. "This Gorion believed you worthy of the sacrifice, and you should not squander his faith in you."

Jayda's mouth snapped closed with the weight of his words.

"Someone, my raven, must go courageously into the fire… and whilst all the little soldiers banter about who will lead the charge, you have already been burned." He lifted her chin. "You have been made better for it. This tribulation is long and the flames burn hot… but you keep moving forward, carving a path for others to follow. I do not think there is a fire in the realms that could burn you now."

Could she really believe that? She wanted to. It sounded like hope… that not all would be lost in this mad fight against fate. And in spite of how difficult it was to believe, how ugly the truth seemed to be, she found herself comforted by his poetic notion.

"Ah, sparrow…" Jayda sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. "I hope the same is true for you. I fear infernos are our future."

"You should not worry so much over those that follow you. We trust you, raven. The question we have is do you trust us?"

Did she? She trusted them as combatants—to always have her back and each other's, to know what to do when the situation got tough, to know what she was thinking, and to easily be worth, each of them, a dozen seasoned men. But did she trust them completely?

Jayda looked down at the flower and nodded. "I trust you. All of you."

"And do you trust yourself?"

"Yes. I think." She glanced up at him and then back at her lap. "Mostly."

They shared a smile and Haer'dalis sighed. The gentle rumble of the ocean and the lapping of the waves against the ship was serene. The reflected moon sparkled on the water's black surface and the sky was a blend of midnight and purple velvet. Dark clouds idly drifted overhead with the gentle sea-breeze that pushed against their faces.

"Ah, my raven, this insanity also known as your life is enough to exhaust even this mad Doomguard into a melancholy humor. Never did I think to find myself longing for such a moment of calm! Yet here it is, and I am content."

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this…"

"Jayda…" he sighed and glanced at her regretful expression. "Oh, do not look at me so! I intend to wail my complaints until the stones shake with my whining, and no amount of wounded looks from you will stop me!"

Jayda laughed and Haer'dalis seemed relieved by it. Had he been trying to coax it from her all along?

"I'm sorry, have you had your soul ripped from you?" she asked, catching him off-guard. When she laughed again at his shocked expression, he hooked his arm around her neck and tried to muss her hair.

/

The next morning, Jayda met Saemon on deck. The sun shone brightly overhead but the constant breeze kept the temperature from reaching sweltering. When he saw her, he motioned her over. She put her arms on the railing and leaned against it, enjoying the mild temperature. Winter would be coming soon, but not yet. Autumn had yet to come. On the mainland, perhaps, it would be colder. But the coast was temperate and relaxing. She wished she was there under better circumstances.

"I have a gift for you," Saemon said, pulling her from her thoughts, "to cement our friendship and as payment for a battle well-fought—and for many more to come—and the return of my ship. Or, at least, _a_ ship."

He held out a silver blade to her and she gasped when it captured and reflected the light. It was beautiful, sharp, well-made… but it was also broken. The guard, the pommel, the handle—all of it was gone. It was just a blade.

"As much as I do not want to give it up," Saemon continued with feigned sadness, "I have possessed this blade too long."

"You're giving me half a sword?" she asked and raised one of her brows.

"Most a sword, actually." He waved his hand dismissively. "It was hardly compensation for the troubles."

"Meaning?"

"It was a gift from Irenicus as payment for services."

"A gift he gave you or a gift you felt worthy of when you plucked it for yourself?"

"This time, you may be surprised to know, I…" but he trailed off when he saw her look, stammered for a second, and continued, "that I may have found it among a number of other items I was paid for my sudden yet inevitable betrayal."

"Sudden," she repeated. "You poisoned me for weeks."

"Jayda," he began, putting on his charm, "I thought we were past all this ugly business."

"What ever gave you that impression, pirate?"

"I'm a victim—like you." He ignored her glare. "As for my part in all this, I wasn't really given a choice. My life or a stranger's? It's not a hard decision to make."

"I don't blame you for that…" She looked down at the blade. "But if Irenicus had it, it must be of value in some way."

"That or it was an antique, perhaps worth more completed," he mumbled, then suddenly clapped his hands together. "Still! It is a gorgeous blade of fine craftsmanship and, seeing as fighting and killing are your business, I thought it might be the perfect gift to let bygones be bygones."

"Saemon," she handed it back to him, "bygones are not bygones, and there's no hilt. I can't even use it."

"But one day you might be able to," he assured her, shoving the blade back at her. "Perhaps on Irenicus himself. And won't it glisten when it takes off the bastard's head? There are many weaponsmiths in Amn. I'm sure you will come across one who could put a handle on it for you."

Jayda ran her thumb along the edge and jumped when it instantly cut her skin.

"It's sharp…" she murmured, surprised. "Very sharp."

"See?" He smiled.

"All right," she agreed and returned his smile. "But this does not make us even."

Saemon frowned and went back to the view. Jayda laughed and leaned on the railing beside him, enjoying the scenery and the silence.


	29. Cast Into the Sea

**Cast Into The Sea**

Jayda tried to smile when Imoen opened her eyes and looked up at her sitting on the edge of the bed. They hadn't had a chance to talk since being reunited. They had fought through the maze, collapsed in exhaustion at the Vulgar Monkey, stolen a ship, and waited tensely for a white sail to appear on the horizon declaring that they were being pursued. When no sail appeared, they had dined and retired, and here Jayda sat watching her sleep.

Imoen had always been like a sister to her, and now she knew that she really was her sister. Was that the reason for their fast friendship and deep bond? Or was it because they had been two strange, bastard girls in a town of wizened old men? Candlekeep aged like a great oak—slowly, sturdily, quietly. They had been sparks of chaotic fire and rebellion and, for a town where the largest structure was a great library, it was a dangerous combination. Fire and books did not mix.

Imoen had always been the obedient rebel. She did her chores, she spoke kindly to her elders, and she studied when she had to. She had learned a few tricks of the thieving trade from Jayda, but her love had been in magic, and she relished her time spent with the spell-masters. She had dyed her hair pink and spoke with spunky slang, but when Master Vyman called for her, she went immediately and with a spring in her step. They were always proud of her.

Jayda had been different. The walls of Candlekeep were home, but they were also the bars of a finely crafted cage. They were the walls of her own snow globe, and she was safe within that closed-in town. And while trapped within, she haunted the place like a curious shadow. It wasn't that the townspeople hated her, but they knew her to be a troublemaker. Only Gorion seemed to have genuine love for her. And he was proud, even when he scolded her for stealing Blacksmith Donni's hammer _again_. There was that twinkle in his eye, a sparkle that said, _You've got talent._ That was his favorite phrase. "Jayda, you have more than skill, you have talent. You were born with it."

And in spite of their differences, she and Imoen had been fast friends, always bailing the other out of trouble. She couldn't remember how many times Imoen had been her alibi, or how many times she had stood up for Imoen. She had become Imoen's silent protector, and the pink-haired girl accepted it with all of her being. She trusted Jayda to keep her safe, and she had suffered for a cause she didn't understand, with the same blood she didn't know she possessed. After all of the pain and the torture and learning the horrific truth that she, too, was a child of Bhaal, she had stood by Jayda's side. True sisterhood.

Why had Jayda expected Imoen to leave her?

"Whatcha want?" Imoen asked sleepily.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Jayda admitted.

"Just gonna watch me in my sleep?" She yawned.

"You say it like it's strange. I was worried about you, Immy. Are you okay?"

"No," she confessed, "but better now to be sailing away from that place and away from Irenicus." Imoen sat up and stared at her with her dark green eyes. "How are you holding up?"

Jayda slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to find the words to answer with. It was the million-gold-piece question. "I won't lie. I know a piece of me is gone, and I can feel its absence. I was terrified when I thought I was losing myself to Bhaal's blood more and more every day. And now that my soul is gone, I did lose myself… to the Instinct. I'm closer to the edge than I was before." She frowned. "How did I get to this point? This point where I am wishing to go back to the days when I still had my divine soul. I wanted so badly to be rid of it. And now I am, and all I can think of is how I must get it back."

"Hey," Imoen said, taking her by the shoulders. "We'll get our souls back. We won't let the Instinct have you."

"I won't let it kill you, either. If I turn again… if I turn on you, any of you… kill me."

"Jayda—"

"I mean it, Imoen. Do not hesitate. Do you hear me? I would rather die than turn again…"

"I can't promise that won't happen," she mumbled, seemingly frustrated. "I won't hurt you if there's a chance to stop you, to save you." She took quick, deep breaths, getting more and more agitated by the second. "What's happening to us, Jay? Why is this happening to us? I feel so awful. So awful… and tired. All the time. And when I dream, I dream of what he did to me… and I feel so empty. Do… do you, too?"

"It's… different," she confessed. "I dream, but not of Irenicus. I dream of Bhaal… of you, of the Instinct… Messages, warnings, internal battles—I don't know how to explain it." She was suddenly angry at herself for bringing it up. To say it made it real, made her crazy, made her weak. "Bhaal's… _my_ soul, it burned. It was like a fire inside of me, and now that fire is gone. There are embers now, but they rarely stir. I feel cold… empty and cold."

"It's different for you." She said it like she was confirming what she already knew. "I… never once suspected that I could be… never felt it, not even a little bit. But now…"

"Imoen." Jayda grabbed Imoen's neck and brought her closer, pressed their foreheads together. "Imoen, I'm sorry I couldn't get there sooner. I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"Enough of that. You came, that's what matters. I never doubted for a second that would come for me." She tugged Jayda's hair and smiled so Jayda smiled back. "You haven't told me what happened after I was captured."

So Jayda recounted the tale. In the middle of the story, they went to the kitchen for bread, fresh soup, and ale. By the time she got to the part about confronting Bodhi, they were back in the cabin, curled up on Imoen's bed under a blanket. All the while, Imoen asked her millions of questions, curious at every unspoken detail. Jayda answered all, explained everything, all but Gaelan. She didn't even mention his name.

"In the maze, Bodhi said something about a particular thief," Imoen said, and Jayda cursed. The little mageling was perceptive, even in the midst of danger. "Who was she talking about?" she asked. Jayda's reluctance to answer gave her away and Imoen's mouth curled into a sly grin. "You met someone."

"I didn't—"

"You did. Don't lie to me. You know I can always tell when you're lying."

Jayda grimaced. The girl was relentless when she wanted to be. "A thief," she admitted. "We became close. Closer than we meant to. Gaelan Bayle."

"Tell me," she urged with a smile.

"He… he's tall. Half a head on me." Jayda's fingers tugged and pulled at each other. She felt like a girl in Candlekeep again, and it felt wrong. Misplaced. Gorion's Ward existed in another lifetime. Now, she felt stripped of all of her innocence, future, and rite to joy. How could she gossip about a boy she liked in the midst of so much darkness and pain? But thinking of him gave her an ounce of hope, and once she started remembering, she couldn't stop confessing. Gaelan, she reminded herself, was not a boy. He was a man. "Blue eyes, black hair. Strong, but slim. A rogue's build… with a rogue's skill." She grinned ever so briefly. "With him, I could vanish into the shadows forever. With him, I could hide from everything. Sarevok, Irenicus…"

"Even Bhaal?"

Jayda cut her gaze to Imoen. "No." It was spoken more harshly than she meant to. "No, there's no hiding from Bhaal. But… almost. Almost." She fiddled with the blanket covering their knees and pulled it higher. "I dream of him sometimes."

"Do you think Bodhi will make good on her threat?"

"I think I need to get to him as fast as possible." Jayda swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "I put nothing past the devil. If… if Gaelan is… if he's…" She looked over at Imoen. "You'll have to stop me, Imoen. Because I don't know if I will be able to turn back."

The pink-haired girl sighed and rested her head on Jayda's shoulder. She let her head rest on top of Imoen's, and the girls sat that way for a long while in silence.

"What's happening to us, Jayda?" Imoen asked again with a sigh. "How did it get like this? What did we do? Why us?"

"We were born of _his_ seed. It was inevitable. We never had a choice."

"So we leave it all up to fate, huh?"

"Never. I'll fight it. I've been fighting it. I've been doing all I can to avoid this disaster but it just keeps catching up to me. No, it's like… it was always ahead of me. I walk into it even when I try to run the other way."

"We'll never be the same, will we?"

"You will," Jayda said seriously. "You'll get your soul back and the happy Imoen I always knew will take over, drive the Bhaal essence back like before. You'll live an exciting life, just like you wanted. You'll live freely, smile often."

"You really think that's true? It's hard to imagine when I'm feeling this way."

"It's definitely true." She had to believe that. "Just wait and see."

"You, too. You wait and see. You'll move on, too."

"I don't know," Jayda admitted. "Maybe."

But she didn't believe it. The Imoen of Candlekeep had persisted throughout all of their adventures until Irenicus had come along. This Imoen—this scared, depressed, empty Imoen—was a lie. The real Imoen would return one day, kill the imposter, and live a good life. But for Jayda, the little girl from Candlekeep had been the lie. She was certain now that she would be touched by Bhaal's essence for the rest of her life… however short it turned out to be. She was fighting a war that could not be won.

"Maybe," she said again, and hugged Imoen closer. She had said she wouldn't lie, but when the people she loved were in her arms relying on the comfort she could give, the lies came easier than the truth.

The nightmare would never end.

When Jayda got up to go to bed, Imoen tugged her closer. "Stay with me," she had said, so Jayda did. The two girls curled up together like they used to do on cold nights in Candlekeep on her small bed above Gorion's study after a long night of whispers, giggles, and games by candlelight. A lifetime ago.

/

The winds had died down three days into their voyage and progress had slowed. Trapped under a hot sun was unbearable, and so Jayda had begun to dig into the journals she had stolen from Spellhold. She sat on deck with one of the large, crinkled tomes of Irenicus' journals in her lap. Day after day, she read the dairies of a powerful man descending into madness.

On the seventh morn of their voyage, Jayda noticed Saemon standing at the prow with a crease on his brow. The sun was just starting to rise and she liked how cool the temperature was, so she had snuck out of bed to enjoy the weather and read. Saemon's worried disposition, however, distracted her.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she approached, following his gaze eastward. There was a bright beam of light creeping over the edge of the world. The whole ocean sparkled orange.

"Can you see it?" he asked. "Just on the horizon, a ship in the east. It's been following us for days."

"Friends of yours?"

"Not of mine."

"Desharik?" she guessed.

"Doubtful, though I suppose not impossible. It would be unlikely that he was able to swim to shore, assemble a crew, commandeer a ship, and find us so quickly." Saemon glanced down at her. "The ship is making steady progress in spite of the dry spell."

"How?"

"She must have a strong crew. Rowing is the only way to cut through the sea when there's no wind, and though my men have been at their oars, they don't have the strength to keep pace. This vessel, though, is making excellent time. And that tells me one thing: this ship knows these waters, prowls them. And that can mean only one thing."

"Pirates," she concluded.

"Aye."

Jayda studied him for a long moment. "What is it?" she asked. "There's no way ordinary pirates have the clever Saemon Havarian so spooked. You know who they are, don't you?"

"I venture to guess," he said, but she interrupted him.

"Saemon, tell me true."

"I know them. Of them." He motioned to the ship in the distance. "The Dread Treaty is a pact of the Sea of Swords' most fearsome pirates—all as likely to turn on each other as to save the other's skin. But the treaty's lasted, and that's because the pirates use each other to dominate the waters, to keep isles like Brynnlaw under control. They call themselves the Dread Kings. Desharik was one of them."

"And this ship is coming to meet one of his allies."

"Or to kill the ones who violated the treaty."

They shared apprehensive glances and Jayda nodded to let him know she understood what had to be done. With that, she went below deck and warned her friends while Saemon roused the crew and gave them the news. After all Jayda and her company's bags were packed and equipped in case things took a turn for the worse, they headed up top and took positions on the deck, weapons within reach. And they waited.

The sun was just starting to descend in the sky when the ship came upon them.

"All right, men!" Saemon hollered to the crew. "Prepare yourselves to be boarded. All weapons ready!" He glanced over at Jayda as she came up beside him. "Don't worry, Jayda. I'm sure this won't be any trouble at all."

"Any trouble? Captain, you brought it on board with you," Haer'dalis mumbled.

"He's right. I cause more problems than I solve, and am part of more than I create."

"Erm," Saemon narrowed his gaze on her like he wasn't sure what she meant.

"I'm rather surprised the whole sea hasn't swallowed us up, yet," Haer'dalis continued. "I suppose it isn't too late."

"Now I'll have no talk of such nasty business aboard my ship," Saemon said quickly. "In position, we're about to be boarded."

"Shouldn't we fight?" Anomen asked.

"I'd like to see if I can resolve this without blowing holes in the ship, thank you much."

The great ship that rolled up beside them was as fearsome a vessel as the Leviathan. The crew leapt from the deck and swung from the mast poles when the two ships were aligned. Ladders were dropped over the ledges and a man with a giant feather in his hat and golden rings in his face crossed over, three burly islanders in tow.

"You're the violators of the Dread Treaty! You have forsaken our brother!" growled the vessel's captain, his tone harsh and brutish.

"Pardon?" Saemon said. "I am sorry, but I do not know what you are talking about. Speak clearly that I might understand."

Jayda rolled her eyes. Watching the clever bastard work was even more agitating than being duped by him.

"Understand the Dread Kings see all that you do, revenge all wrong against them." He grinned and the rings pulled his flesh taut in some areas and cause it to wrinkle in rolls in others. "These are our waters, Say-mon HaVaran. You have trespassed and taken what is not yours!"

"Please, the name is spoken with more of a flourish, and a good deal less spittle—"

"Your name will be spoken with blades for tongues!"

"Is there no way to resolve this?" Jaheira piped in, not liking the anger escalating in the captain and the sneers of his crew.

"We will resolve it with blood!" he shouted.

"This just isn't a good tenday…" Saemon sighed, and then an explosion rocked both ships. The enemy vessel lurched. The Leviathan had shot first.

Soon, there was chaos on deck as sailors leapt at one another, rusty swords swinging wildly. More cannonballs fired, but from the way the ship rocked, Jayda was mostly positive that it was the other vessel being hit. And then after a moment, there was a loud crack and their ship jerked. Most of the people on board were thrown off their feet and a mad scramble to get back up caused a mess of people slipping over the boards.

Jayda and her company fought close together, keeping their side of the deck clear. For a moment, it looked as though they might win the battle, but then another wave of pirates crossed over to their ship. Somewhere a fire was started and the mast went up in flames. Another tremor rocked through the timber and a loud cranking sound overrode the bangs of canon fire. The sailors scattered across the deck, arms out and ears alert.

Suddenly, the deck began snapping in half and ropes from aloft began dropping down, whipping this way and that with their ends aflame. Sailors screamed, men jumped into the sea or scrambled for the other ship. The weight of one of the sails snapped its mast in half and the wood groaned as it tipped over and crashed through the captain's cabin and demolished the poop deck.

Jayda jumped for the railing and clung to it as the ship shook and the company spilled across the wet wood. Haer'dalis caught himself on a rope-hold but Jaheira was knocked over the railing and into the sea. She grunted, panicky at her friend's disappearance. A flaming rope whipped near their heads, forcing her to let go of the railing. She slid from port to starboard where Imoen caught her.

"I got ya!" the mage girl cried, but their wet hands compromised their grasp and Imoen screamed as she let go of Jayda's hand.

Jayda was sliding again and hit the railing with a hard smack. She screamed at the pain that rushed up her back and winced as the wood beneath her cracked. She used the rungs like a tilted ladder and scurried up toward the center of the ship, now tilted at a forty-five degree angle. She jumped and caught a spindle, pulling herself up next to Haer'dalis.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Jaheira!" she cried.

"I saw." But he could say nothing more. What could be done in that moment? There was another groan and the mast Imoen clung to snapped. She screamed as she hit the deck and slid. The heavy beam smashed the railing and she went overboard.

"Imoen!" Jayda screamed. She started to go after her but Haer'dalis snatched her by the arm.

"Don't! There's nothing we can do now!" he told her.

Jayda growled angrily and surveyed the ship, wondering how things could have progressed so terribly. Everything was quickly catching fire and she saw several burning bodies flip over into the sea, screaming in horror. She tried to find Anomen, Minsc, and Aerie. They were center ship near the main mast, still fighting. Saemon wasn't too far from them. Was the situation even salvageable? If they could get to the other ship, they might stand a chance.

Then suddenly the ship complained again and a series of loud snaps shook her to the core. The ship split in half. Anomen immediately was dumped into the sea and Minsc's quick reflexes caught Aerie before she went overboard.

"Jayda!" Minsc screamed, reaching out to her as the side she and Haer'dalis occupied split away from the rest of the vessel. He was too far. Their section bobbed in the waves, unsteady, and then the water rushing in weighed it down. It began falling forward, clipping the side of the main body and rebounding to the side. She and Haer'dalis were tossed into the sea.

The swirling confusion of two ships locked in combat sucked her under and then spit her out again. She gasped, choking on salt water mixed with blood. The whirlwind she was trapped in carried her around the ship as she kicked and flailed and desperately tried to grab on to something. She came too close to the ship and was sucked under again, fighting to no avail the water funnel created by the ship taking on water. She bumped along the bottom of the boat clawing at splintered wood as she was dragged away. In the chaos, all she could see was a flood of bubbles and froth swirling this way and that.

She was thrown up into the air on the other side and, for a moment, seemed to have been ejected from the swirl.

"Imoen!" she screamed. "Anomen! Jaheira! Haer'dalis!"

But there were countless bodies splashing around her. She couldn't distinguish any of them as her friends. Her arms were aching from treading water in such heavy gear and fear gripped her heart. Had Anomen sunk outright? He was in full plate. _No_, she told herself, _he's found something to grab on to._

"Imoen!" she screamed again. "Jaheira!"

A sudden screech of wood and a great whine caused all in the water to gasp and look up at the fighting ships. The flaming main mast had broken away and was falling right for them. Jayda began kicking and sweeping her arms to get away. When the mast hit the water, she was thrown on a wave against the side of the ship and sucked under again. She kicked and struggled, but the suction was pulling her deeper. The weight of her armor, weapons, and pack pulled her down further until she was beyond the vortex. She saw the sun in the west like a red ball in the sky. And then the water enveloped her, and there was darkness.

/

Jayda opened her eyes and saw a blue-shelled ceiling swirling into a frozen point above her head. She blinked several times, trying to figure out where she was and what had happened to her. The Leviathan surfaced in her mind and quickly she remembered the battle, being thrown overboard, and drowning. Had she died? Or had the whirlwind above her frozen in time?

"You're awake!" Anomen gasped. Her hand was suddenly clutched and the knight's face appeared above her. "By Helm, you're awake…"

"Anomen. What happened?"

"Truly? I do not know. I couldn't understand their language at first. We were rescued, it seems, by fish-people. Then one of them cast a spell and I could suddenly understand them. Little was explained, but that we were… for the moment… safe."

He helped her sit up, still grasping her hand tightly. She used her free hand on his shoulder to steady herself, trying to remember even a fraction of what he was saying, but it was all a blank.

"What about the others?"

"Jaheira, Imoen, and Haer'dalis are safe. Minsc and Aerie… were never found." He swallowed hard. "Perhaps they are still on the ship?"

"Yes, the burning ship," Jayda muttered bitterly, gnawing her bottom lip anxiously. "Just where I'd want to be."

"I'm sorry, my lady…"

"We can only hope they're alive." She waved away his sympathy. She didn't need apologies or empathy. She needed answers. She needed to know where she was, what had happened to her friends. "Perhaps they made it onto the other ship."

Anomen suddenly leaned forward and hugged her. That's when she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She had lost them, hadn't she? She had lost the timid, wingless elf girl that followed her bravely and blindly. She had lost Minsc, her mighty protector, who had been with her since the very beginning. Jayda clawed at Anomen's tunic, tightening her muscles, clenching her jaw, and squeezing her eyes shut so tightly that she momentarily ceased breathing. Once she couldn't take it anymore, she relaxed her body and inhaled. The tears, for a moment, had stopped.

"Keep faith, my lady. Keep hope." Anomen leaned away and smiled at her. "Minsc is strong and resourceful. If he were a knight, he'd be one of the finest. He would never let Aerie come to harm. I'm sure even now he is somewhere above us, paddling like a great sea beast with Aerie on his back and Boo on his head. The shore would never be too far for him."

Jayda laughed as she pictured it and nodded so that he would know she would not give up hope. He laughed, too, and brushed her hair away from her face.

"We'll find them," he assured her.

"Yes," she agreed, but deep in her heart she feared she would never see them again. This was a war for her soul, and they were entangled in the web. Her friends were the bounty of war, and Bhaal would stop it nothing to rip everything precious thing from her life. "Yes…" She touched his arm. "Anomen, I'm glad you're all right. In the water, I thought of you in all of that heavy armor… and I feared the worst."

"I admit I was pretty terrified. The moment I hit the water, I began sinking… the harder I struggled, the faster I fell. I wasn't ready to die. Not when we still had so much to accomplish." He took a deep, shaky breath to calm his nerves and then sighed. "Are you hungry?"

He offered up a plate of mixed nuts and fruits. Anomen explained that it took awhile for the fish-people to find something they could eat and this was all that could be managed under such short notice. The nuts were somewhat bitter and the fruit not quite ripe, but she ate it anyway, thankful for something to fill her belly. Her stomach felt awful, probably from swallowing too much saltwater.

Jayda glanced around as she ate. She was in a circular room with open, oval windows that looked out to a blue city. The walls and ceiling were comprised of bed rock and bone and the floor was tiled mosaics. The furniture, including her bed, looked carved from large shell. Everything had a blue hue.

"You'll be happy to know that all of our possessions were salvaged." He pointed across the room to where her pack, armor, and swords were collected.

Jayda took a moment to study Anomen. It had been a long time since they had sat and talked like this. After his sister had died, their relationship had been tense and immediately followed the by war against the vampires. With the fighting and the strain caused by Gaelan, they had not had a decent conversation alone until he was summoned for his trial—the very day she had tried to leave him behind. There had been a brief moment back on Brynnlaw but it had been a conversation about her struggle with the taint.

"Anomen, I'm sorry," she said quietly and he looked at her in surprise.

"My lady?"

"I'm sorry," she said again. _I'm sorry for what I said to you back in Athkatla. You have remained at my side, even when the situation seemed hopeless. You have stood by me when I was at my worst—as a murderer, when the wickedness of Bhaal shone through, when I became the Slayer._ None of that made it out of her mouth. Instead, she said, "I am glad you are with me. I wish I was more worthy of your friendship."

"We cannot often see our own worth." He grinned. "You taught me so, my lady. And I would not abandon you now. You have shown me so many things, challenged every notion I once thought infallible. Even when you became the Slayer… I could not depart. I could not stop seeing you as Jayda, my dear friend. I wasn't lying when I told you how you remind me of my beloved sister. And though it seems in hindsight we hardly know each other, we have been through such a great deal together."

"More than others have seen in a lifetime."

"A hundred lifetimes." He smiled boyishly. "These people whose paths have crossed yours, their lives intimately intertwined with your fate… I am one of them. And like those others, I cannot simply walk away. Your path has become my path. One day, I am sure they will separate once again, but right now in this moment… they are one."

"You always surprise me, Anomen."

"Well, I am a Knight of the Order, my lady."

"That is why you surprise me." She smiled and he pretended to be offended. "What did your sister look like? You never told me."

"Ah, she had dark, chestnut hair, thick and vibrant and feeling of silk. She had the warmest brown eyes, always full of laughter. Her porcelain skin made her look like a finely crafted doll. She was a small thing and I always wanted to protect her, every soft strand of hair on her head. She was my precious sister, pure and pleasant. She could light up a room with a single smile, as though nothing bad affected her. I admit that I was jealous for a time. But as I grew older, I wanted only to shield her from the ugliness of the world and our father. I suppose I saw myself as a knight even back then and her as my first lady to protect." He smiled at the memories. "But Moira, though small and gentle, was a woman who could take care of herself. She was unexpectedly strong and fierce. Looking into those brown eyes, one might see a meek lady, but she was a fighter, a survivor. She would let no man put her down."

"She sounds like a truly wonderful person."

"She was. I miss her… so much." Anomen stared at the floor with a frown in his brow and tears in his eyes. Jayda reached over and took hold of his hand. After a moment, he composed himself. "Let us not talk of loss when you have gained a sister. You must be happy to have Imoen back."

"Yeah," she replied with a smile.

"Would you like me to bring them in?"

"Sure."

Anomen departed and soon returned with Jaheira, Imoen, and Haer'dalis, all looking healthy and relieved. They hugged her and Imoen told her she slept too much, and she promptly reminded the girl that she hardly slept at all anymore.

"It takes a drowning to get a good night's sleep, eh?" Imoen joked.

"I guess so," Jayda replied. "So what's going on? Do we know where we are?"

"Not yet," Jaheira replied. "This is unfortunate indeed. Another few nights and we would have reached Athkatla. Now I fear we are way off-course."

Jayda's skin crawled. "How far?"

"I do not know," the druid admitted. "Somewhere deep below the Sea of Swords, and how far from the coast I cannot imagine. It must be far. An underwater city so close to the mainland would be a hard secret to keep."

Jayda thought of Anomen's words about Minsc and Aerie, about how they had to keep faith. She applied that thought again, trying to keep faith that they weren't too far from shore. She had to get back to Athkatla. Bodhi had threatened Gaelan, had all but named him. If the vampire bitch laid her hands on him…

She clenched her fists. The thought was making her angry and hot. With her soul missing, the heat was her signal something terrible was on its way. She took several breaths to calm herself. Had to keep the faith.

"And what of our missing two?" Haer'dalis asked.

"I don't know. But as long as we stick together, we should make it out of this all right," Jaheira said.

"Stick together?" Imoen snapped. "You were going to leave us behind!"

"Imoen—" the druid snapped, but the mage girl interrupted her.

"You and Minsc conspired to leave all of us behind in Amn. You were going to leave with Jayda, just the three of you!"

"What?" Anomen gasped.

"For your protection," Jaheira insisted.

"I don't need your protection," Imoen hissed. "I need my soul!"

"Enough," Jayda said before the fighting could continue. "What's done is done. We are here now, not Amn. Should the situation arise again, I'll gladly deal with it then, but there is no point in debating it now."

"My raven is right," Haer'dalis chirped. "We must concentrate on discovering the nature of our current predicament. We are under the Sahuagin's care now, but as prisoner or guest I do not know."

"Sahuagin?" Jayda gaped. "By Mask, it just gets worse and worse."

"And strange and strange and stranger still," the bard added.

Just then a Sahuagin entered the room. Female, Jayda noted, judging from her slighter stature and the elegant fins decorating her crown. She wore beads and drapes, and there were three others with her that were dressed less fine. Assistants or handmaidens, she assumed.

"Welcome, surface dwellers," she hissed. "I have called on Sekolah to grant you the ability to understand our tongue. I am Senityili, Royal High Priestess of Sekolah."

"Where are we?" Imoen asked.

"You are in the City-of-Caverns, one of our most ancient places." She motioned to the three behind her and they produced beaded garments as they crossed over to the group. "You will be dressed now for the attendance of our most exalted king."

Imoen was the first to be ushered to the dressing corner then someone came for Anomen.

"And what does the Sahuagin want with us?" Jaheira asked, frowning as one of the attendants held several garments up to her frame.

"You are fortunate, surface dwellers," Senityili said. "In the normal course of things, creatures captured from the sun lands would be dinner for our plate. This once, however, is different. Sekolah has told of your coming in an ancient prophecy, and I have scryed that you are whom the Shark-Father speaks of."

"I should have known," Jaheira mumbled and looked at Jayda. "Once again your peculiar destiny has drawn us into something, Jayda. Even the shark gods flounder in anticipation of your arrival."

"There is no floundering," the High Priestess told them as the attendant took Jaheira away to be dressed. "Sekolah has spoken of you to us. Sekolah visited the City-of-Caverns long ago… all raised their arms in rejoicement as the Great Shark's song filled our hearts!"

Jayda's skin was still bristling anxiously. City-of-Caverns? A prophecy? No. No, she didn't have time for this. She was supposed to be in Athkatla. She had to save Gaelan. She had to get Imoen's soul back. She had to stop Irenicus!

But for all the warning in her pounding heart, she managed to calmly ask, "And what does this prophecy say, exactly?"

"Sekolah told of a time when the City-of-Caverns would be no more. He also told of signs that would precede the arrival of surface dwellers in the depths. Sekolah said these surface dwellers would be all that stood between the City-of-Caverns and destruction, and we would do well to watch for them. We… Sahuagin, as you call us… have watched and waited from our temples here in the City. The signs have come, surface woman, and now you are here."

During the course of her explanation, Imoen returned barely covered by decorated drapes, strings of beads doing most of the covering. Haer'dalis was taken away just as Anomen returned, bright red in embarrassment. His bare chest was painted with blue glyphs and his groin was covered with a loin cloth. Bones and beads and shells hung from the belt that held it up. Jaheira emerged just slightly more covered than Imoen, looking like a tribal warrior with her bronze skin and fierce, exotic eyes.

Jayda went with the Sahuagin who came for her and uncomfortably stripped out of her tunic and pants. The flimsy material she was given felt like it might slip off of her at any moment. She had to go along with whatever they were doing, just for awhile. Just until she knew the truth of her predicament. _Curse you, Bhaal,_ she thought as the handmaiden finished tying her top to her back. _What have you gotten me into now?_

As she emerged from the dressing corner, a male Sahuagin entered wielding a spear and painted like a warrior.

"The King awaits, High Priestess," he announced.

"In a moment, Captain," Senityili murmured. "They are almost ready."

The Captain peered suspiciously at them. "Is… is it dangerous to us? Shall we be forced to collar it?"

"The surface beings are varied in their ways, Feerlattiys, but they are quite intelligent and civilized. There's no need for such precautions with this group."

"I will warn you now," Haer'dalis began, looking more natural in his beads and tattoos than any of them, "that this sparrow has no intention of being collared again, by you or anyone."

Senityili gave what Jayda could only guess was a Sahuagin smile. "My apologies," she said to them. "Captain Feerlattiys performs well as protector of our Shark-Father's Temple, but has little experience with your kind."

"Most sacred Senityili, the most exalted one will wait no longer!" the Captain informed her.

"Of course. You are ready." She reached out and put a hand on Jayda's shoulder. "You have come… and the City-of-Caverns does, indeed, stand on the brink of destruction. You will save us, as Sekolah has promised," she whispered. And then, much louder, she said, "Captain Feerlattiys, we shall now proceed to the royal chambers. Lead us."

The journey across the city to the banquet hall was filled with more blue structures and curious Sahuagin silently peering at them. The creatures walked brusquely and soon they were ascending the delicately carved steps to a great hall.

"Tread easy, my raven," Haer'dalis whispered to her. "Living up to their prophecy may determine whether we live or die."

Inside, the floors were black with gold veins weaving delicate designs beneath their feet. Pillars carved from rock Jayda had never seen before stood tall and fat to support a giant shell that served as a roof. The dining hall was long and the elegantly carved table sat many Sahuagin, all dressed and painted importantly. The King sat at the head of the table, broad-shouldered and muscled with large, colorful fins protruding from his head and shoulders and back. His lizard-like eyes peered knowingly at them.

"We are here, most honorable Ixilthetocal, at your command," Senityili announced, bowing. The King stood up and walked the length of the table until he stood before their group.

"And these… these are the strange creatures from the surface?" His voice was so deep, it sounded like the belching of a fat tavern drunk. "These are the ones you _claim_ the mighty Sekolah has promised us?"

Jayda did not like the way he looked them directly in the eyes yet spoke as if they were not present.

"They are, most honorable one," she replied. "The leader amongst them," she motioned to Jayda, "is what I believe they refer to as a 'half-elf'."

"It seems most… most strange! They have no scales. Look how small and puny their teeth are!" His laughter bellowed throughout the great hall. Jayda quietly cleared her throat. Perhaps it was for the best that Minsc had not been present. He would have surely been offended on Boo's behalf at the insult. The King peered at her. "A half-elf is it? Yes, half of it seems missing. It is so small. And yet I see anger and strength. Amusing." He pointed at her. "You who are half of elf, where is the rest of you?"

"Trapped in a mad wizard," she mumbled, but somehow she didn't think that is what he meant by the question. "I'm half elf, half human," she explained.

"Half elf, half human," one of those seated at the table said as he stood up. "You must kill it, most exalted one! They should not have remained alive! You must kill them, sacrifice them to the Shark-Father!"

"So you keep telling me, Baron Thelokassyil," the King casually remarked. "Shall we turn away a gift of Sekolah, do you think, then?"

"The surface creatures are not sent by Sekolah, most exalted Ixilthetocal," another female said, stepping up to them. She was dressed like Senityili and Jayda guessed was also a High Priestess. "They are not the ones spoken of in the Shark-Father's prophecy. They are nothing more than spurious beasts that have fallen into our lap. We should sacrifice them and feat upon their meat!"

"Oh?" the King asked.

"It is as we have been trying to tell you, Ixilthetocal," the Baron went on. "These creatures are no more worthy than a meat crab, meant for consumption and nothing more."

"No! Most honorable Ixilthetocal, the signs were clearly seen!" Senityili argued. "All has come to pass as Sekolah had foretold."

"Not _all_ the signs have come, Senityili," the other priestess hissed.

"I do not see what I wish to see, Tlyysixxous. I see only what Sekolah has shown me, and these _are_ the saviors of the City-of-Caverns."

"I shall be the judge of that, good Senityili," the King said and pointedly looked at Tlyysixxous. "I shall be the judge." As the King paced before them, the two High Priestesses bowed their heads in reverence. Suddenly he stopped and pointed at Jayda. "What do you think, half-elf? Do you think you are more worthy than a sea crab? Do you think you are who the prophecy speaks of?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

"You don't know if you have more worth than a sea crab?" he asked, and the table of guests laughed. "It's tempting to taste for myself." He smiled—she assumed it was a smile—and then chuckled. "But then, a scrumptious half-elf might come in handy…"

"I can't say whether or not I am the one your Sekolah promised would come," Jayda said louder, interrupting their mirth. "I can say that I have fought and killed my way through countless monster and cruelty. I have been tormented by gods and man, bathed in the blood of my enemies and victims, and even in the darkest hour when all I could do was fight, I fought. I have had my soul ripped from me. I have struggled constantly to be here and so I swear to you… I will not go quietly. Sekolah sent me? Maybe. The gods work in ways we cannot understand. But if you think to dismiss me with your uncertainty and prejudice, _that_ you will regret."

The room was horribly quiet, all except for Haer'dalis mumbling about her "treading easy". Then the King began laughing. No one else dared even chuckle as the King laughed long and loud, body shaking. When his laughter finally died down, he bent at the waist so that his face was mere inches from Jayda's.

"Welcome to City-of-Caverns, strangers," he said, "saviors sent by Sekolah. You have boldly bought my deliberation, and perhaps your freedom." He stood up and waved dismissively. "The city is yours until the time my deliberation is done."

"M-most honored one!" the Baron shrieked in offense. "You wish to let them loose in the city?"

"If they are truly Sekolah's chosen, they will do us a service we can hardly hope to repay. I want everyone to treat them like… like… like pale, small-toothed, skinny fellow Sahuagin. Yes. Like that." He laughed at his own joke. "Go where you wish, my little half-elf, but do not try to leave the city… not unless you care to try the oceans again." He chuckled then made a strange noise which prompted several of the guests to stand up. They followed their King through a side door that slammed shut.

* * *

**A/N:** So I changed the scene with Saemon and the ships because, frankly, the Githyanki showing up is somewhat random. I know it's related to the silver sword, but you never deal with the Githyanki in BG again (to my memory, ToB is a little fuzzy, though). Dealing with the pirates seemed to make more sense for this story so I switched the Githyanki out for pirates seeking revenge for Desharik (although in all likely-hood they were out for his ship xD). As you can see, I am changing things up in City-of-Caverns as well. This and Chapter 5 will have the most creative liberty, I think. City-of-Caverns was such a randomly short affair that it seemed almost pointless. In the game, great, but for the story I wanted to explore a little more and give the characters a moment to collect their thoughts. Hope you guys will enjoy my alternate version of this and Chapter 5 as much as you enjoyed the game's version.


	30. City-of-Caverns

**City-of-Caverns**

Jayda blew the red hair from her face as she opened one of the few journals she had left. Though Anomen had said most of their possessions had been saved, many of the journals had been lost or so waterlogged that reading was impossible. She opened the crinkled pages of one of the only ones she could still make out and squinted at the faded text.

"Spellhold is in my control," she mumbled under her breath. "Once recovered from my torpor… made short work of defenses…" Her finger followed along under each sentence, helping her keep track of the lines. "Coordinator Wanev conveniently removed himself… suffering a peculiar reaction to a spell of mine. I forget what it was, perhaps something I heard in the temples of Sul… Sulda…" She frowned. "Suldanessellar. What was Irenicus doing in Suldanessellar?"

Jayda pondered it only a moment, staring out at the blue pools and statues surrounding her. Some of the statues were elegant, some sinister, but she wasn't really seeing them. She was thinking. The City-of-Caverns was open and cool, and a nice breeze blew in from somewhere she could only imagine. The Sahuagin steered clear of her, and she found solace on the white benches that littered the elegant walkways of the fish city.

She shrugged and went back to her struggle to read the bleeding text. "My condition grows worse, and what I remember of my 'home' is fleeting. I see images of family whose names I cannot recall, dream of emotions I no longer feel as vividly. On occasion I sense nature as if she is my mother, as though never removed from her bosom, but such moments are few. I bear… hallmarks of senility… rage and power of a young elf to lament it." Jayda tilted her head to the side. "Young elf. He isn't being poetic, he's being honest. Irenicus was an elf once."

Before she could go any farther, a tall Sahuagin approached her possessing the same royal fins of the King. A high priestess walked behind him.

"So it seems the surface creatures we have heard so much about have finally come to see us," the male said in a harsh but surprisingly mild tone. "Is this the one that your mother spoke of, Sallinithyl?"

"They are, most honored Villynaty," the priestess replied. "The most sacred Senityili was most specific in her description."

"Hah! I do not think the description had to be all that specific. As if she would be anyone else, ugly as she is. Her flesh, it is so pale and scale-less…"

"Ugly as she is," the priestess continued, "she is the ones sent by Sekolah to save us."

The one called Villynaty shooed the priestess away and they were left alone. Jayda raised her brows in curiosity. She was hoping the confrontation would not turn into a fight. Bloodshed would be ill for their current cause.

"Your hideous appearance means little," he said, "as does this nonsense about Sekolah sending you, as Sallinithyl and her mother seem to believe so strongly in."

"Sounds as sound as any other theory," she told him.

"So you admit it?"

"I admit nothing but that I know as much about this situation as you do."

"Don't be so sure." He came closer. "I am Prince Villynaty. They call me the rebel prince."

"Your father must be proud." She faked a smile.

"King Ixilthetocal is not my father. He is my uncle. My father was the one leading the rebellion. King Ixilthetocal lost his son when the infighting started. I lost my father as it ended. The King claimed me as his heir as long as we swore peace."

"Why would you fight each other?"

"Our ways cannot be understood by surface dwellers like you."

"I understand fighting," she said. "Enemies, traitors, innocent blood trapped in unknown circumstances. But amongst friends?"

"Not friends," he snapped. "Not then, anyway. War is war."

"I know war."

"And what would you know of it?"

"Too much, Prince."

"I think you know nothing of war!" He showed her his flesh, at the scars that rippled beneath his bent scales. Jayda stood up and showed him her scars, showed him the hooked reminder of her first meeting with Sarevok. The Prince glared down at her but he seemed to understand what he was being shown. "Perhaps you know something." He hesitated a moment and then added, "Your kind does not belong here with us."

"Yes," she said, letting the beads once again cover her abdomen. "Of that much we can agree."

/

The quarterly meeting of guildmasters was a short one this time. Gaelan was glad for it. He had stifled a persistent yawn throughout the whole thing, listening as each master gave his account of the earnings and activity since the last meeting. Aran Linvail made his commitments, fulfilled his obligations, made promises and threats, executed a few traitors, and prepared for the next quarter in just under three hours. Sometimes the proceedings could take all night. Guild business was just like any other business, he mused. He was glad he wasn't at the top. He didn't have the stomach for boring affairs.

As he made his way through the guildhouse, Renal clapped him on the shoulder.

"Several of us are going to the tavern. There's a new wench serving at the Iron Diadem and the reports are that she is quite the fair maiden. Coming?" he asked with a grin.

"No, I don't think so," Gaelan replied. "Goin' home and to bed. Ye can tell me of ye exploits tomorrow."

"You still won't come out. It's been months—"

"I know what it's been an' I be tellin' ye true, I'm tired an' I want nothin' more'n to sleep."

Renal led his friend to a quiet corner of the guildhouse. "Have the nightmares stopped?"

"No," Gaelan said with a sigh, rubbing his face tiredly. "Off and on. I screwed up, Renal. I shouldn't have let her go. Not alone."

"Shouldn't have… should have…" Renal peered at his friend. "Would you have gone with her, Gaelan? Forsaken the Shadow Thieves and your duty here for a woman you claim to be nothing more than an affair?"

"Ye know the moment I said it I was full of shit."

"I know." Renal smiled smugly. "And I told you so, and that I wouldn't let you regret it."

"Ye doin' a piss poor job of that."

"Perhaps you deserve the pain for thinking you were above it in the first place."

Gaelan glared at him. It was dead-on true, but he didn't want to admit that. Renal looked smug enough. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Time. I need time."

"Time is all you have." He took him by the shoulders. "We're thieves, Gaelan, not heartless Night-Fiends. There's no law in the code that forbids you from having feelings. And now, because you couldn't own up to them, I'm forced to drink with lesser friends."

"Damn, that's a shame," Gaelan muttered unsympathetically. Just before he could say something else, a few underlings rushed into the room and began whispering with some others.

"Did you hear?" one of them was saying. "Some corpses turned up in the gutter."

"So?" an older thief grunted.

"They had marks on their neck!" another hissed. "Just like the ones the Night-Fiends used to leave!"

Gaelan and Renal exchanged frowns. Could the vampires be back? Months had gone by since Jayda had eradicated them and not a single person had gone missing under mysterious circumstances. Aran had told them that Bodhi herself had gotten away, but would she really risk coming back? Of course not. Unless…

Gaelan shifted uncomfortably. Bodhi had been allied with Irenicus, and Jayda had gone after Irenicus. The only way Bodhi would risk returning was if she knew Jayda had left the city. And if she knew that much, she would know Jayda's fate. Suddenly a miserable feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach.

"I need to go," he mumbled.

"Gaelan—"

"G'night." And he pulled out of Renal's grasp and ducked out of the door.

All the way home, he thought of her and of what the vampire's return meant for her. For him. For the Shadow Thieves. Would the disappearances and killings begin again? What would happen without her there to save them from it? Was she still alive? Had she found Irenicus? Had she rescued her friend? Had Bodhi been there to foil her plans? Would she come back if she knew Bodhi had returned?

He made a vow as he locked his house up and collapsed on his bed. He made a vow that if she ever came back, he would man up and tell her what he felt. Capable thief, he mused, recalling her words to him the night she had tried to dump him. He had known it then, too, that the only thing Gaelan had stolen was her heart.

He cracked his neck and knuckles, shrugging his shoulders up and down to loosen the tension in his back. He couldn't blame her for keeping quiet. After all, she had stolen his and in return he had offered to pay for her services. Like a fool. Renal had been right. He didn't go out anymore. He didn't want to. He didn't want to bed any girl but her. He kept waiting for the itch to wiggle out of him, but it never did. He just couldn't rise to the occasion for anyone, regardless of how beautiful or buxom she was. Love and love's absence had made him soft and limp except for in her memory, and he couldn't stick another girl when imagining her face. It was wrong. Her body was unique, fit to his perfectly.

And it was more than physical. It had been more than physical not long after their relationship had started. She was the one project he had enjoyed more than all the others. When she told him that he made her feel like just another thief in the night, a crazy fantasy entered his mind—a fantasy of the two of them together, a pair of thieves in the night. He was embarrassed for thinking it but he continued to entertain the dream in his mind. Was he even deserving of that happiness? Of her? Of a Bhaalspawn? Even when he knew what she was, he never saw her that way. She was just Jayda.

Gaelan kicked out of his boots and went to sleep in his clothes. He was half tempted to slip off his breeches and reminisce on the nights he spent with Jayda in that bed, but sleep claimed him too quickly.

/

The common banquet was nothing like the King's banquet. It was held in a smaller, oval room with open windows and bright, coral chandeliers that hung low from the ceiling. The table was no more than two feet off the ground, fat and oddly shaped with wavy, warped edges. Hundreds of pillows in shades of green and blue served as cushions to sit on. Shallow, wide, colorful bowls and matching platters held all kinds of strange foods. There was an abundance of raw fish, red and green algae, kelp, squid, and creatures resembling sea anemones. For their guests, the Sahuagin had cooked a few platters of fish, dried dulse, salads of sea lettuce and mixed nuts, and clams.

Haer'dalis ate a bit of everything. Being a tiefling, he was used to trying strange and foreign foods. He enjoyed the cooked fish just as much as the algae and anemone. He noticed how his other surface dweller friends cringed at some of the food offered them and chuckled to himself. He was enjoying the experience overall. Sharing in other cultures was inspiring and invigorating, and truly part of the reason he enjoyed traveling. The chaotic nature of the Sahuagin was something he was surprised to find intriguing. They were more than just primitive lizardmen warring against surface dwellers. They were civilized creatures that waged more civil war than any other kind.

Down the warped length of the table, Haer'dalis noticed Jayda and Jaheira talking. While he couldn't hear them over the noise in the room, he could read their lips. Jayda was asking the druid if the taint had diminished. Jaheira was insisting that it was fine and there was no need for concern.

"No change since I lost my soul?" Jayda asked and the other women shook her head. She mumbled something Haer'dalis couldn't quite make out from the distance and the way she barely moved her lips. Then, the druid arose and went to sit with Imoen. Jayda's eyes saddened as she stared at her food so he hopped up and went around to her side. He plopped down next to her and she jumped in surprise.

"Lost in thought?" he asked.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only to a trained eye such as mine, my raven." He winked. She smiled but he could tell it was forced. "What weighs on your mind?"

"I was thinking of Minsc and Aerie. I hope they're all right. Captain Feerlattiys told me that no one matching their descriptions was found, but that one of the ships had been decimated—the Leviathan—and that the other had taken serious damage but had moved on."

"Then let us hope they were aboard the ship that escaped."

"But as what? Free men or captives?"

"Instead of that, think only that they are alive."

Jayda nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. We were just… so close."

Haer'dalis tilted his head as he studied her. "Jaheira told me that she and Minsc planned to leave the others behind. She admitted she would have welcomed my blades, but the others she knew you would agree to carry on without. Is this true?"

"Jaheira knows me well." She pressed her lips together, took a deep breath, and nodded. "I would've, yes, if only to save them. You have to understand… I never asked or wanted to be the leader of this expedition. Things were clear and then they weren't, and when that happened I made a decision. Somehow, people followed me. So if they are willing to walk and die with me, it is their choice. I welcome the company and the swords. But I _can't_ quit when the road is long and hard, when the monsters threaten more than your life. If I could spare Aerie from further torment, Anomen from becoming jaded and losing faith, Imoen's bright flame from being snuffed out… I would. I will." She sighed. "But then they tell me that it is their choice to live their life, and regardless of how they volunteer to walk into the abyss, I feel I have imposed upon their lives. I still feel responsible. What is a leader to do? I'm not much of one. I speak for a group whose minds have already been made up."

Haer'dalis laughed at her. "My raven, you deeply amuse me. Try not to think about it. I can see it vexes you so. Instead, imagine Aerie or Anomen or any of us taking charge and see where you end up. Not on the right track, I think. Besides," he lifted her chin, "as a leader you give us purpose, but you cannot take away our will. Our will is to follow you. Yes, you are responsible, as responsible as we are if something were to happen to you."

"Stop making sense," she said with a small smile and took a sip of her drink. He laughed some more.

"So in the business of leading or following, which would you prefer?"

"I… don't know. Leading, I suppose, since that is all I have been doing and I cannot imagine it another way. Besides, I'm a thief. We thieves work alone, generally, and if someone wants to tag along we tend to take charge. We're pig-headed that way. We think we're the only ones who know how to do it right."

"You? Never." He grinned. "So tell me, my raven: singing or dancing?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Choose honestly, whatever first comes to your mind. Instinct, my raven, instinct!"

"Dancing, I suppose, but I'm not very good at it."

"I recall you saying so early in our friendship. Promise we shall share a dance at our next opportunity."

"Nothing seemed to stop you the last time, Haer'dalis."

"True. And it shan't again." Although now he had more of a vested interest in dancing with her. Back then, it had been a celebration and she was his savior. Their relationship and how he felt toward her had drastically changed. "Poetry or prose?"

She made a face as she thought over her answer. "Prose, I guess. What is all this?"

"Ah, this sparrow prefers prose as well, though a finely wrought verse is pleasant from time to time." He didn't answer her question, and he wouldn't as long as she continued to answer his. Her face had gone from one wrinkled by troubles to smiling and laughing. "War or peace?"

"There cannot be one without the either."

Haer'dalis beamed. "Indeed you have me there, my clever one. To loathe one and love the other may perhaps be our instinct, but without the one to hate, there would be none to adore. Is your glass half-empty or half full?"

Jayda reached out to her cup and peeked inside. "If there's ale involved and it's in front of me, it's completely empty." And then she downed the rest of the alcohol in her cup and her face flushed red with warmth. He laughed and gently refilled her glass.

"Daytime or night?"

"Night," she said immediately, and he could have guessed that with the thieves' blood coursing through her veins. She leaned back on her palms, relaxing. "I feel most at home at night."

"Aye, myself as well. 'Tis too peaceful, too calm at times, but there is something captivating about your pale moon and her blanket of stars. Yesterday or tomorrow?"

"Today."

"Ah… such a sweet reply is music to this bard's ears." He had always liked her for her smarts and had loved her for the chaos in her heart. But this cleverness was somewhat new, unexposed facets of her personality, and he was captivated by it. "Truth or lies?"

"Both have their uses," she said with a nod.

"Indeed. 'Tis not a trait for which I can judge anyone, as I am likely guiltier than most in that regard."

"Likely?" she snorted. He smiled, unable to argue.

"Beauty or wisdom?"

"Both, for I have neither."

"And in saying so, both are yours."

This time when she blushed, it was because of him. They laughed together as though it were some great joke. Haer'dalis did not press it. A wise man never believed himself a sage, and the truly beautiful never saw more than an average face in the mirror. Jayda would never see her worth. Hers was a spirit trodden with hardship and curses. Tragically beautiful. He had told her that once, and it had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame. Hers would be a glorious end, he knew, and he would sing of her tragic beauty and the chaotic drum of her life for decades to come. In that moment, Haer'dalis was quite sure it would become his most favorite story of all the realms.

When he looked down the table, he saw Anomen eyeing him. There wasn't quite jealousy in his gaze. It was something else. It amused him. He surveyed the other guests, feeling other eyes upon them. There were no others save one pair and it surprised even him. The rebel prince's stark, yellow eyes were locked on Jayda in a scrutinizing stare.

"Many eyes are on you tonight," he whispered to his raven without ever looking away from the rebel prince.

"Wondering if we're part of the main course," she jested and sipped at her drink.

"Not us. You."

She snorted and muttered that he was being an actor again then went on with her meal. He wondered what drew people to her. He wondered if they sensed the same thing he sensed. He wondered if they recognized her tragic beauty. How could they not? She burned like a bright, deadly flame—unchecked, uncontrolled. He wondered if they, too, wanted to touch it, be touched by it, even though the fire would surely burn them as it had everything else. Even the Sahuagin princeling could look past her half-elven features, her vulnerable shell, her mortality to the indomitable spirit within.

But her soul had been ripped out of her. What remained? Something was still there, smoldering in wait. It had transformed her into the Slayer, a deadly avatar of Bhaal. Even then, he couldn't say that it was the Slayer that lured them. It was something else, something more. She wasn't just Jayda, a half-elf rogue from Candlekeep and Baldur's Gate. She was a Bhaalspawn, heir to the throne of the Lord of Murder. Her father walked as a mortal and she followed in his footsteps.

What drew the people to heroes? She had been called the Hero of Baldur's Gate and they had cast her out like a villain. Heroes never thought of themselves as such, and she was no different. She longed for and would be content with a home and to be a nameless thief in the night. But he knew that would never be her fate. Heroes were drawn into struggles, into chaos, and so she was.

Haer'dalis smiled as he watched her. A god made mortal sat at his side and, one day, he would sing the song of her life—how she lived and how she cried, how she fought and how she died. Heroes did not retire to songless lives when their battles were won. The battles were never finished. The war could never be won. For the first time in his life, he felt a tiny bit saddened by the fact that she would die a hero, die young, die fighting.

...

Jayda sighed and stepped out of the banquet room onto the open walkway and took a deep breath. In spite of the cold-blooded nature of the Sahuagin, the room had grown hot with so many bodies gathered together… or perhaps because of the alcohol swimming in her bloodstream. Either way, she needed fresh air and quiet. The King and his counselors had been deliberating for seven days and she wondered what they discussed and how long they would need to come to whatever decision they were debating about.

The presence of another was like a shiver up her spine and she turned to see Prince Villynaty emerge from the beads of the banquet room and come to stand beside her. They watched the waves of the pools beneath their feet lap gently against the support beams of the walkways that threaded the great City-of-Caverns.

When he said nothing, she retreated back to her thoughts. Jayda was thinking of Minsc and Aerie. She hadn't known the Avariel mage very well, but Aerie had been a gentle and honest soul. She had wanted to see her grow stronger and brighter as they became closer. Minsc was different. They had known each other long and well. They way he spoke of Rashemen had made her long to see it for herself, to run the snowy fields with him and Boo. Would she never get that chance now?

"I spoke with High Priestess Senityili about you," he finally said, voice rolling gently with hidden thunder like the waves beneath them. It brought her out of her thoughts of her lost friends. "If Sekolah means to save us, why would he send us this soft, tiny surface dweller? Against Sahuagin, you would be crushed! She told me you were not sent to fight Sahuagin, but our enemies. What enemies could you fight better than we could? How could the Shark-Father's chosen not be one of his people?"

He let the question hang in silence as though he were asking her for an answer, but she had none to give and she knew he had never expected one. There was faint laughter and murmurs from inside the building behind them, disturbing the peace. Prince Villynaty began walking down the walkway away from it and Jayda felt compelled to follow him. He wanted her to follow him. She could feel it. So they walked silently until they were far enough from the lights and sound that only the water lapping was heard and the reflections on its surface illuminated the darkness.

"Wise Senityili told me the signs of your coming and the visions seen in the sacred pools. She told me that you were a half-elf creature on the surface but underneath you were a beast with black scales. She showed me the watery image in her scrying pools and, for once, I believed."

Jayda bristled at the comment and suddenly felt cold in the balmy air.

"That isn't me."

"It is you," he snapped as though chastising a child. Villynaty never spoke kindly with her. "It is a part of you. We are each of us two people: the one fate decides us to be and the one we decide for ourselves. I am Sahuagin and my blood is rebel blood. I chose the warrior's path as fate decreed. And then I made the choice to become a peacemaker when the decision fell to my shoulders. Do you understand?"

She cut her gray gaze to his yellow eyes with their black slits and they glared at each other for another drawn out moment. This rebel prince, she quickly understood, communicated best without words. He sensed all he needed to know.

"You are this puny thing now," he said as he roughly grabbed her arm and jerked it, "and I could break your arm in two with a simple twist." He tossed her arm back at her, eyes never leaving hers, hers that burned with anger. "You are this death beast, too. I can sense you fear it. Your others fear it, too. But it is you and you must decide what you will be. It is not to be a half-elf or black beast—you are both. It is to be them and yourself. We can only be the best of what we are."

"You're giving me advice now, Prince?" she said through clenched teeth. "You have seen me as unworthy since your people brought me here. Now you are suddenly on my side?"

"On your side," he spat like the words offended him. "On a warrior's side. I know those scars. My scars. If this rebel warrior could be a peacemaker then this puny surface creature could be Sekolah's chosen. We have in us more than what we were given."

"You don't understand what this is. This black beast you refer to is not what you think it is."

"It is you. That is enough."

"It isn't me!" she shouted and he shoved her back.

"Then you are unworthy!"

Jayda and the Sahuagin prince lunged at each other and went to the ground in a tussle. She had never fought such a large creature without weapons before but she was not about to be defeated by a cold-blooded lizard telling her that Bhaal's curse was a part of her identity. She had struggled too long denying that aspect of her life, as though it were a disease she had contracted. That was exactly how it felt. She had never known the taint was in her blood until Gorion had tried to whisk her away and Sarevok had walked into her life. With his curved blade he had nearly killed her with, he had poisoned her. She inherited the curse and had been fighting it every day since.

They rolled across the walkway trading punches and kicks. He was burly and strong but she was nimble and quick. She easily squirmed out of his grasp when he caught her and attacked from a new angle. They fought and clawed, drawing blood from scratches and blows, but instead of a duel to the death it was more like a skirmish between angry boys in a schoolyard.

When Villynaty's punch landed so hard she reeled, Jayda knew she had to find another method of fighting than head-on dodging with quick spins for backstabs. She ran and dropped down onto a ledge below, rolling with her landing. Her fingers skimmed the water that had risen too high and was lapping at the walkway. Villynaty pursued her, diving into the pool. Jayda stood on the walkway alert, waiting for him to come up and attack. Her eyes darted two and fro, muscles tense.

Finally he lunged from the water like a fish, flying for her. She flipped to the side just in time and he crashed into the water on the other side of the walkway. She ran again, sprinting for higher ground. When he sprang up again, she flipped back with careful timing and her foot connected with his jaw, sending him back into the waves. She climbed the steps two by two as the rebel prince leapt out of the water and bounded after her.

Jayda jumped and grabbed for the walkway and twisted at the waist in a spin, her hands dexterously readjusting her grip on the bridge. Her feet connected with his face twice and he was falling backward for a moment. He caught himself on the stairs just in time to see her flying down at him. He caught her and they tumbled back down onto the walkway. When he flipped her over and got on top of her, claws pressing into her gut, he felt her fist against his scaly throat as though a knife had sunk up into his skull. She was panting and his rapid breaths were like hisses. There was more silence while he took in the sense of things.

"You are worthy," he finally said, "but not enough to live. If you were more worthy, you would have killed me and survived. Know who you are or you will never know yourself."

Villynaty climbed off of her and she sat up, catching her breath. The water lapped at their legs. Was the Slayer part of her? No. It couldn't be. The Instinct wanted her to think she could control it, but it would only ever control her. The Slayer was an avatar of Bhaal, another inherited curse.

"I am a monster, Prince. Even you have to see that."

"Monster," he repeated, staring at the water. "Surface dwellers call us monsters, but we are Sahuagin. You call yourself monster, but you are who you are. Senityili showed me in her scrying pools. Your beast is black as the deepest oceans." He looked away from her almost bashfully.

Jayda was taken aback. Had this rebel prince found beauty in her most hated self? The Sahuagin were considered evil by most races so it shouldn't have surprised her. They were only guests among them because their religious group believed her to be their savior sent by Sekolah. In any normal situation, they would have been food long digested in the fish-people's bellies. And yet this prince had spoken seriously with her. He wanted her to understand something. Perhaps he needed her to understand so he could believe. Regardless, his words had merit.

She touched her arm and the slice he had given her. It would scar. She looked up at his face and the blood leaking from the cut from where her fist had ripped his scales. That would scar, too. Scars were how they weighed and measured their lives. Now, they would forever be connected.

"I still think you're wrong about the Slayer," she finally said. "But… you may be right about the rest of it. I don't know if it's the same, but... you have given me something to think about."

Villynaty looked at her briefly and then away again. "Kindred spirit," was all he said in reply.

/

After thirteen days, the King's deliberation finally came to an end and Jayda and her companions were brought before him once more.

"We have indeed agreed that you are Sekolah's chosen one," King Ixilthetocal began and Jayda hoped that it hadn't taken them more than a tenday to figure that out. She was relieved when he continued. "Long ago, Sekolah appeared at the great doors to the City-of-Caverns and slew a thousand infidels. He decreed no heretic should again enter the city and sealed the doors with his tooth. By this token, we could open them and seal them as we pleased, and we chose to keep them open. The oceans are our means of travel, not the caves, and so it did not matter. But then the drow came… With powerful magicks, they stormed the city. They were led by a mage of great strength and he took Sekolah's Tooth with the rest of our treasure.

"Since then, we have been victim of raids, our wealth confiscated and our men taken for slaves. The drow and illithids take more each year. We have just ended a civil war that left our factions split and our numbers dwindled even more. Even now, we struggle to rebuild our losses, but the drow amass ambitiously. War is at our doorstep, and the angry rumblings from the deep threaten our city's integrity.

"We need Sekolah's Tooth to preserve ourselves, but if it is lost then nothing can be done. Still, the drow must be stopped. They must be driven away from our city. That is your charge. That is what Sekolah sent you to do. Only you could consort with their kind."

Jayda took a deep breath, filling to the brim with dread. She was being sent to the Underdark to confront drow? It could take weeks, months, maybe more. She could die in the Underdark, die fighting drow. They were legendary warriors and they were at home underground in the black. She had more important things to do. She had to find Minsc and Aerie. She had to get Imoen's soul back. She had to get _her_ soul back. The longer she waited, the more likely she was to turn back into the Slayer. And there was Gaelan… she had to save Gaelan from Bodhi's evil grasp. If she went to the Underdark, she would be too late to save him!

Jayda inhaled and stiffly lifted her chin. She couldn't swim back to Amn. Perhaps from the Underdark she would find a way back to the surface.

"Yes," was all she said, teeth grinding together. The prince stepped up beside the King.

"My heir and his chosen will go with you into the tunnels to ensure your safety," the king continued. "And then you will be on your own, my little half-elf."

"Of course," Jayda said quietly. That was always the way of it. "We will leave at once."

* * *

**A/N:** So the City-of-Caverns section changed a lot (not that the King and the Prince won't go at it again one day, just Jayda won't be showing up to take sides :P). The Underdark part will, too. Not so drastically that you won't recognize it, but I'm definitely taking liberties. I personally felt the City-of-Caverns and almost all of chapter 5 were the least thought-out parts of the game. Not that they weren't enjoyable to play (well, I DID want a lot more out of Ust Natha than what I got, alas) but I wanted to take some liberties in these parts more than any others to tie the story together more completely. Hope it's still enjoyable and that the changes don't throw you off. :D


	31. Underdark

**Act 5**

**Underdark**

The darkness was penetrating. Occasionally, phosphorescent mold or some other subterranean plant life gently illuminated the caverns and tunnels, but otherwise they were left with only the Sahuagin to guide them. Haer'dalis himself possessed darkvision, but he was just one man. Having Prince Villynaty and his twenty-four militiamen made traveling the black more comforting.

They had descended into the Underdark through a well, not through the great doors. They needed to take a roundabout way to the main cavern, the Prince had explained, because the direct route was too crowded with Drow patrols and camps and would be too dangerous to attempt to travel. The risk of illithid abductions would be higher as well. So they had gone the long way. They seemed to walk for an eternity and the days and nights blended together. There were only a few battles to mark the passage of time and then the repetitious sound of feet on stone drummed into their ears and made them all feel as though they were walking in place. It was unnerving, even to him who had seen many a wondrous and indescribable place traveling the planes.

One day or night after countless hours of travel, they entered a larger cavern with a big pool filled with glowing algae and anemone that nearly lit the cavern and provided enough low-light to improve at least Jaheira and Jayda's vision. The group agreed to make camp and the surface dwellers among them decided to stick close to the pool. When the Sahuagin declared the water safe for drink and use, they use it to clean the blood and dust and grime from their faces and hands.

"I've come far chasing Irenicus," Jayda told him as she began to unpack her bedding, eyes focused on the blue-green water shimmering before her, "but I have never felt so isolated until now. It's like we're walking to the end of our existence, walking away from the world instead of a way back to it. Even Irenicus feels distant in this blackness."

"Are you afraid?" he asked her seriously. She halted her actions and looked at him.

"Of what?"

"Anything. Everything. Irenicus. This place. Your thoughts. Arriving 'too late'…"

She cast her gaze downward and, for a moment, her gray eyes were bright, luminescent blue-green orbs. "Yes," she whispered.

"I am fearful as well," he told her honestly. "This darkness feels much like the bars of a great cage. But even this eternal black pales in comparison to the shadows in your eyes. Do not think me blind to you, Jayda. I see in the dark when you believe no one notices your expressions."

"Sometimes you are too observant, my sparrow," she told him and laid out her bedroll.

"Only when I want to be," he explained with a smile and she flashed her amused gaze at him. Underneath that glimmer, he could tell she was annoyed. She hadn't wanted to be caught. Jayda was a woman who best dealt with her problems internally. This was not something he believed she could solve on her own, however. Or, perhaps, he just wanted her to rely on him more.

Later, when a fire was built and rations had been consumed, Haer'dalis sat quietly near the flames and prepared for his watch. Jaheira was communing by the pool—some sort of druidic prayer, perhaps—while Jayda and Imoen were fast asleep. He stared at his red-headed companion, at the harsh expression she wore even in sleep. It troubled him.

Anomen suddenly sat down next to him.

"I do not like the way you watch her," he said.

"I do not like the way you watch _me_, Dane," Haer'dalis replied, recalling all the times he had caught the knight's eyes on him. "But I fear you shall have to be more specific. There are many _hers_ in the Prime, after all."

"Do not feign ignorance. She values you, for some reason, but I will not have my lady eyed like an animal at market."

Haer'dalis laughed. "Ah, such flattering comparisons you make of your lady love! 'Tis no wonder she was not swept off her feet…"

"You—!" he hissed, flustered. "It's nothing like that!"

"Then what makes you so certain my glances are not welcome? Or invited, for that matter?"

The tiefling and human squared off in a staring contest. Haer'dalis remained perfectly calm, his eyes accusing and insinuating. Anomen frowned, cornered and agitated. Finally, he shook his head and looked away.

"She is… a dear friend to me," he explained quietly. "I won't have you hurting her with your whims and fancies, actor! I know of your kind, and your affections are like the wind—strong while it lasts, if only for seconds."

"Such convictions in your tone!" Still, the jab hit home. Every compliment he sought to give her had been rebuffed with the reminder that he was 'being an actor again', as though all his sentiments were feigned. At first, it had amused him, but when his affections had become more real, he had found it almost hurtful. "Either you are a better actor than I could have imagined, or you truly feel the love that you would deny me. 'The Bhaalspawn and the Priest.' It does have a nice, dramatic ring to it, aye?"

"I only wish to protect her."

"As do I, Anomen," he said quietly and with a small smile. He looked over at Jayda. "Fear not my glances, for they, too, are unrequited—like arrows without targets. I may be bold, but not as bold as she. Your lady and my raven—her heart is spoken for."

There was a beat of silence before Anomen said, "I know."

There was a long pull of quiet between them as each man contemplated his own heart. The fire popped and crackled peacefully, warming away the cold of the Underdark. The occasional murmurs of Sahuagin exchanging words or creatures scurrying to and fro in the distance tunnels echoed in the cavernous room. Finally, Anomen broke the silence.

"Jayda rescued me from my uncertainty," he said. "I sought adventure and justice and she gave me those things. Her fiery spirit reminded me so much of my sister, it was difficult not to feel as though we were as close as though we had known each other for ages. And the more time I spent with her, the more I saw her differently. Not just as a friend but…" He trailed off.

"As a woman?" Haer'dalis finished for him.

"I thought so, but no. I saw her as a paragon, though I didn't realize it at the time. I saw her as someone I wanted to be: strong, steady, in control of her destiny regardless of the turmoil that ripped at her soul. I came to admire her, to respect her. I think, in the end, I mistook admiration and respect for love. When she denied my feelings, I wasn't as heartbroken as I thought I would be. Instead, what troubled me more was the fact that I could not be at her side anymore. I realized that, more than anything, I just wanted to help her like she helped me."

"I see," the bard mumbled thoughtfully. "So you did not truly love her."

"I truly love her," Anomen corrected him, "but I think it is a different kind of love. She is a precious friend to me. And only when everything was laid bare—my feelings and hers, her true nature and mine—could our friendship truly become real." The knight shifted and Haer'dalis felt his eyes on him. "But it isn't the same for you. You love her as a woman."

"That is one sentiment this actor need not feign," he replied, but there was a part of him that felt guilty. Did he love her for who she truly was or for the chaotic Bhaalspawn she struggled not to be, for the hero she denied she was? Haer'dalis had loved and loved fiercely many women throughout the planes, but it was as fleeting as life itself. And even in the heartbreak, he found the beauty. He could not deny that she was just another poetic moment in his life, but a piece of him wanted her stanza to be more important and more finely crafted than all the rest. "But for her sake, an actor I will remain."

Anomen nodded and they did not speak again, only sat together in understanding. Eventually, the knight got up and went back to his bedroom and slept. Haer'dalis did not sleep that night, even when he was relieved of his shift. He remained awake, staring into the flames, wondering at his own heart.

/

It was another week of traveling, so said Villynaty, until they reached the main cavern. The Drow city, he explained, was on the other side. The cavern itself was far more lit than she had expected. Florescent fungi bloomed across the cavern ceiling and stalactites. The Sahuagin nestled into a defensible nook and began making camp.

That night, as Jayda lay in the darkness trying to sleep, her mind was swamped with turmoil. She kept seeing Minsc's and Aerie's faces, wondering where they were and if they were okay. Most of all, she wondered if they were alive. She shut her eyes tight and tried to block out the bad so that she could steal some sleep. Every night in the Underdark, she had been plagued with nightmares, lost in the isolating blackness. She felt cold and empty. She felt hollow. She felt as though she had lost herself and was stumbling blindly through her life.

Even when things had seemed bleak and hopeless, she had chased Sarevok relentlessly. She had never lost sight of her target. It had been… simpler. Stop the war, stop Sarevok. But this was different. It was so much more personal, so muddy and unclear. All she had wanted—needed to do was to rescue Imoen, to kill Irenicus. She hadn't counted on her soul being stolen, on being dumped in the secret places of the world. What was she struggling toward? Getting her soul back? Killing Irenicus? Hopelessness filled her. Would it never stop? If Irenicus was just a madman out for power, she would never be safe. Did he have some other agenda? Some other plan he meant to accomplish with the aid of her divine soul? She didn't know. She was so lost. It felt as though everyone knew more than she did.

Jayda pulled her blanket higher on her shoulders. She was so cold in the penetrating darkness. As she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, she thought of Gaelan. She tried to remember what it felt like to be near him. She thought of the first night she had intimate thoughts of him. They had been having a drink together in the Copper Coronet when suddenly he had come on to her. One of Mae'Var's rats, he had explained, was watching them and she had to shove him away to cover up the nature of their relationship. But when he had started kissing her neck, she hadn't wanted to push him away. She hadn't wanted him to stop. That night, she had tossed and turned in frustration, unable to banish the feel of his lips on her skin.

Gaelan Bayle, with his black hair, blue eyes, and charming smirk, had immediately caught her eye. But it was his personality, the cleverness beneath the mask of a Slum dweller, the sense of humor that had moved her the most. She felt at ease with him. And when they had become intimate, she had never felt so consumed by warmth. Gaelan's warmth was different than Bhaal's warmth. Her divine soul overwhelmed her with raging heat, but Gaelan's was soft and comforting. She wished he could hold her now.

She tried to imagine it, his hand touching her shoulder, chest pressing against her back. She could practically feel his legs settling against the back of her knees. Then suddenly her head was lying on his other arm, his fingers reaching out to link with hers. His free hand was gliding down her arm and his nose was nuzzling her cheek. His body was so warm. His teeth grazed her pointed ear, breath tickling her jaw. She sighed hotly.

"Jayda," he whispered and she felt his lips pull into a grin. She grinned, too, and closed her eyes. She wanted to turn and burrow against his chest, kiss him, make love to him, but if she moved then she was sure this illusion would fade.

"Gaelan," she murmured into the darkness. The feeling of him with her was so intense that she could have sworn it was real. But when she awoke, her bed was empty and her body was cold.

That morning—Jayda assumed it was morning—she pulled out the orb Senityili had given her. Once they had left the City-of-Caverns, her magic had faded and the surface dwellers could no longer understand the Sahuagin tongue. So a magical orb was given to Jayda and as long as she and one of the Sahuagin were touching it, they could understand one another.

Prince Villynaty laid his hand on top of it and they locked eyes.

"We will make camp here and remain until you bring us word of our salvation," he told her. "If we go further, we draw attention to ourselves. The Sahaugin have many enemies here."

"I understand, but I don't know what you expect five of us to do when all but one are blind in these caves."

"This one is well-lit," he told her, annoyed. By well-lit, he meant not entirely pitch black. "Only four of you will go. One of you must stay with us."

"I'm not leaving a valuable member of my party behind," she argued. "I need every able sword I can get to survive this place."

"We need to be sure you will return."

"You don't trust Sekolah's chosen?"

"We trust Sekolah, not surface dwellers. This is the King's decree. One of you must stay. Which will it be?"

Jayda took a deep breath, feeling more and more agitated by the day. "I've lost too many people, Villynaty. I spent months trying to rescue Imoen and when I finally did, two of my friends were lost, missing in that ocean. Now you want me to leave someone else behind on your word they will be kept safe?"

"You have my word," he told her and pointed to the scar he'd given her then to the one she had put on his cheek. "Your friend will remain whole. If any of my men try to eat your friend, I will cut them to pieces and eat them instead."

Jayda swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. She hadn't even been worried about whoever she left behind being used for food. She had been more concerned about the dangers of the Underdark. The fact that his only concern was whether or not someone tried to eat her friend bothered her greatly.

"Prince—"

"It is done. Now pick." And he withdrew his hand. Jayda hissed out her sigh and whirled on her heels. She joined the others by the campfire.

"What was that all about?" Imoen wanted to know.

"It seems one of you must play hostage to the Sahuagin," she explained.

"By Silvanus, why?" Jaheira snapped.

"Collateral," Jayda replied, "to ensure we get the job done." She looked around at each agitated face and understood how they felt. "I can't leave Haer'dalis behind. He's the only one of us who can see in the dark. And being a tiefling might come in handy should we encounter Drow who hesitate before trying to kill us."

"We should also take Imoen," Haer'dalis said. "Having a mage would be invaluable in this darkness."

Jayda looked at Imoen and nodded that she agreed, noting how the pink-haired girl slightly blushed at the bard's comments. Now the decision was between Jaheira and Anomen, both skilled fighters. Jaheira was a more talented healer but Anomen's armor allowed him to take more of a beating. Their numbers were already dwindling. Perhaps it wouldn't matter who she chose and they would be overwhelmed, but she had to think there was a chance to survive.

"Anomen, we'll need someone to take hits if things get too ugly. Jaheira, if you don't hear from us for too long, you'll stand the best chance of tracking us or finding your way back to the surface." Jayda handed her druid friend the globe. "I'm sorry. I don't like this at all."

"Neither do I," Jaheira confessed, "but we've been saying that since we got on the road to Baldur's Gate." There was a hint, nothing more, of a smile and then she took the orb.

It took only a few minutes to pack up their things. They said goodbye to Jaheira and then headed toward the main cavern. Prince Villynaty's stark, yellow eyes peered at her near the mouth of the tunnel. They could not have communicated words so neither said anything. He just stared as she passed by. And then the great cavern was before her, dark and dangerous.

/

Haer'dalis led the group through the caverns. When there was any ounce of light, Jayda's eyes were able to take advantage of it and take the lead herself. Villynaty had warned them the moment they entered the Underdark that torches would only blind them to the real dangers around them and draw unwanted company to their location. The denizens of the Underdark, he had explained, knew how to hide beyond the reaches of the light. So they powered forth slowly and cautiously.

The first battle they endured was against what the Sahuagin had called kuo-toa, a sister species of the Sahuagin and their hated enemies. They had triumphed over the fish-people with surprising ease, bolstering their courage and hope. The second night they camped, they were awoken by the sounds of steel and screaming. Haer'dalis had rallied them toward the noise and scouted ahead to investigate the situation.

"Small gnome-like creatures," he reported in a whisper when he returned, "are being attacked by a small Drow party. I counted seven dark ones still alive, several mages. There are over a dozen of the small ones but they are being overwhelmed."

"If we help them, they may help us," Jayda said.

"I do not know if it's wise to get involved—" Anomen began, but Jayda held up her hand to silence him.

"We're going."

They snuck up to the battle as quietly as possible and made note of their enemies. Two women lorded over the fight like supervisors, occasionally throwing out spells. There were five men cutting through the gnome ranks with speed and precision. A sixth male lay dead on the ground.

Jayda tapped Imoen's shoulder and pointed to one of the females. She nodded and began wiggling her fingers, preparing a spell. Jayda tapped Anomen's breastplate and silently communicated that she wanted him to rush the masses. Haer'dalis was instructed to slip around the group and attack the males from the other side. She was going for the other female.

Imoen was the first to attack. A bright bolt of light flashed across the cavern and struck the female target in the chest. She stumbled backward and the Drow stiffened in shock. Fire enveloped the female, announcing the fact that she did not have a shield in place. Jayda rolled into the fight and loosed a dagger that struck her in the forehead. She hit the dirt as Jayda came up in front of the other female. Her blade locked against the other's mace and the woman growled in surprise. No doubt she had not expected a half-elf to interrupt their skirmish.

As the males turned to deal with the intruder, Anomen bellowed a war cry in Helm's name and barreled into the fight, smashing his mace against the back of one of the males. His leather armor easily gave way, crushing his spine. When the dark elves tried to reorganize against this new foe, Haer'dalis danced into the fray. Imoen's magic flashed into the fight, and the Drow were overwhelmed.

When their enemies lay dead at their feet, one of the gnome creatures approached them cautiously. The body of one of the females was still on fire, allowing them to see what was happening around them. Jayda noted their weapons—pickaxes and spades—were raised in fear. The one brave enough to come forward spoke in a language she did not understand.

"We're here to help you," she said in common, hoping they might understand. She motioned to the others to lower their weapons and installed hers back on her belt. "We don't want trouble. We need your help."

The gnome peered at her and looked back at his company. They shook their heads. After a moment, they lowered their weapons and inched away.

"Please," she said. "Help us."

The gnomes began mumbling amongst themselves agitatedly for a long stretch of time and then their spokesman inched back toward Jayda, as though he still weren't positive she wouldn't lash out at him with her swords. He spoke at her but she could not understand. He pointed to her and then pointed to the ground. He then motioned to his company and imitated mining. He repeated the motions over and over again until Jayda believed she understood. He wanted them to guard them while they finished their work. She could only hope that they would take them to someone who could understand.

As she settled in her watch-post, she thought she saw someone in the shadows, peering at them. She squinted but she could not make out the nature of the figure. She squeezed the hilt of her main-hand blade and inched closer, but when she reached the nook, it was empty. She dropped her hand back to her side and went back to the main camp, alert to any sounds or movements, but nothing happened.

It took half a day before the miners were ready to go, and it was thankfully uneventful. Once their carts were loaded, the leader came up to Jayda and motioned to their caravan. So Jayda and her friends followed quietly as they were led through the caverns, up winding tunnels and through clusters of stalagmites that towered above them. The mining camp was high on a ridge across a wide chasm. When they reached the bridge to cross, guards rushed them and barked at the caravan leaders, waving at the surface dwellers in anger and shock. There was some deliberation and the guards relented, allowing them to pass.

The camp was large but strangely empty. Jayda wondered if most of their patrols and teams were out in the field. The gnomes they did see were squat, suspicious little folk covered in soot and dust. The tunnels they walked through were narrow and cavernous rooms branched off the sides. Boxes and carts, sometimes empty and sometimes full, were stacked and stalled to either side. Their path was lined with mining track that curved and stretched to a large pit and spread out to other tunnels branching off the main cavern. They were led away from the work area and up rickety wooden steps to a small town where granite hovels and wooden structures were clustered in an unorganized heap.

The leader gnome barked words to them and motioned for them to follow, so they did. They were led to a tavern with low ceilings and lower furniture and they had to duck to enter. There were dim-burning torches on the walls. The gnome went straight up to another of his fellows who had an impressive gray beard, unlike the other men that they'd seen who were bald and beardless. They exchanged words and then the miner waddled off, leaving them with the orange-haired one. He stared at her expectantly.

"I really hope you can understand me," she said and he smiled broadly.

"It is not often we encounter surfacers down here," he said in the common tongue. "You must excuse my fellows for, in the Underdark, there is rare need for svirfneblin to learn any language but deep speech or gnome."

"Svirfneblin?" Imoen echoed, confused.

"Deep gnomes," he replied. "We speak to the rock, child, and among it we are truly at home. I am Golander Blackrock, chief of this granitehome, and I welcome you, surfacers." He motioned them to the table to sit. The chairs were hard to squeeze in to and their knees didn't quite make it under the table, but they sat anyway.

"I am Jayda, and this is Imoen, Anomen, and Haer'dalis," she said, pointing to each respective companion. Golander nodded to each in turn.

"Doggleroth told me you rescued his team from a Drow patrol unit. That was very brave of you."

"It did not feel all that brave," Anomen said. "They harassed the weak. It was our duty to take action."

"Don't think us weak. Instead, think that the Drow are unbelievably powerful."

"They didn't seem all that powerful," Imoen put in. "We beat them pretty bad 'n quick."

"You caught them unawares," Golander explained. "They were not expecting surfacers. Next time, should you be the one caught by surprise, you will find the fight a much more difficult one. More to the point, however, is that you did my fellows a kind and brave service. Might there be something I could do for four strange surfacers lost in the Underdark?"

"Ah," Jayda cleared her throat, "it's a long and somewhat unbelievable story. It's my understanding that the Drow are somewhat… out of hand lately?"

Golander nodded. "As you can see, our granitehome village is quite empty. I have sent the majority to deeper climes far from here. It is no longer safe, thanks to the Drow."

"What's happening?"

"If you ask me, the only time a city amasses that way is when they're preparing for war. I have no proof and no answers to give. Whatever it is, it's trouble. They've been raiding our camps for supplies and workers. I've heard many Sahuagin have been enslaved and we've seen groups of Duergar being herded in chains. Then there have been the quakes, which can only be caused by the Drow. We've burrowed nothing out of this earth to cause such malicious shaking. The stone trembles and we can sense its sadness and anger. A deep anger, like that of betrayal."

"Who would the Drow be waging war against?" Jayda asked.

"I do not know. We can only figure it must have something to do with the two surfacers that recently appeared. That's why everyone is so leery about surfacers, you see. The ones recent have brought nothing but trouble."

"Surfacers," Jayda repeated, skin crawling with apprehension. "Tell me about them."

"The neck-biter and the mage," he said and she went cold. "They passed within the city of the Drow, Ust Natha, not more than a month ago."

Jayda, Haer'dalis, Anomen, and Imoen all gave knowing looks.

"Irenicus and Bodhi are here," Anomen gasped. "How? Why?"

"How? I do not know. But why? Now that is a question I am very keen to answer," Jayda mumbled.

"What's going on? You know these strangers?" Golander asked.

"It's not what you think," Imoen declared, upset. "They hurt us… tortured us! They tried to kill us!"

Jayda put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. "Imoen, calm down." She waited until Imoen had visibly stilled before turning back to Golander. "We hunt these two surfacers you've seen. I need to get into that city. I have to know what's going on."

"Getting into Ust Natha is no easy feat," he warned her. "Even if you could somehow get inside, you would surely die. The Drow are as xenophobic as they come, and they possess a deep hatred of any folk born of elven blood." He pointed to her ears. "All your efforts would be in vain."

"I know about the Drow's hatreds, but I need to get to Irenicus and Bodhi. If they are here and the Drow are amassing for war, you can be sure that Irenicus is behind it and only destruction will follow. Blackrock, please. If I can get into Ust Natha, I may be able to… to somehow fix this situation, somehow balance out the relationship between you and the Drow like it was before all of this started."

Golander got up and paced in front of a hearth, soaking in the warmth. His gray complexion and matching beard looked like more stone in the fire's glow. Finally, he peered up at him with his granite eyes and stroked his beard.

"I know of a being that might help you. She could see you safely inside, but it is still a mighty risk indeed!"

"I have to take that risk," she told him seriously. He nodded.

"Then you must take the great staircase into her lair. It is the blackest of all the tunnels, but there is glorious light on the other side."

"Who is she?" Haer'dalis wanted to know.

"She is called Adalon by choice, though 'My Lady' will suffice just as well. Show respect and you will have it in return. The passage to her lair is guarded against intruders by a force of her design. It is the blackest of dark, preventing even the Drow entry."

"Then how do we get in?" Anomen asked.

"I know a way. For safe-guarding my people and… for potentially freeing us from the Drow's machinations of war, I will give you a 'light gem' to banish the darkness of the tunnel. I carry it with me always, but you have done us a great service."

"Thank you," Jayda said, reaching out to clasp the gnome's hands. "I promise, I will do all that I can for you. And… I'm sorry. Irenicus is my problem. He should not be yours."

"I once travelled the surface, too. Long ago. Though svirfneblin are hard-pressed to see it or believe it," he smiled, "it has been my truth that all problems are shared by the inhabitants of Toril, for we all share this world, each and every one of us."

"I wish more people believed as you do," Anomen said. "The world would be a far better place."

"Truly," Golander agreed. "Now, you have come a long way and my people are weary from work. Rest in camp tonight and then we shall take you to see bright Adalon."

He waved over the innkeeper and spoke with him in deep speech. After awhile, they were taken to baths to get clean—a strange notion since no more than an hour after bathing they felt covered in soot once again—and then a warm meal was delivered in the tavern. All of the miners filled the tables and ate hungrily, excitedly talking to one another in a roar of noise that neither Jayda nor her friends could begin to understand.

The bunk houses they were brought to were large rooms full of small beds pushed close together. They made due, although all of their feet hung off the ends. As quiet settled over the granitehome, Anomen's voice broke the deadening silence.

"My lady?" he called. "Are you still awake?"

"Yes," she replied. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I… I just wanted to tell you something. Since we last spoke of my sister, I have been thinking of her and all of the decisions I have made since joining your company. I… I have been thinking of Saerk… and I am glad that you pushed me to refrain from taking vengeance on the man." He swallowed loudly, nervously almost. "There was no real evidence of his involvement, was there? It would have been wrong of me to listen to my father's ravings. Moira… she would not have wanted me to take bloody vengeance for her, not if it wasn't true. And, if… if Saerk did those things, well… Well, he will pay for them. Someday, I suppose. The gods will see to that."

Jayda pushed herself up and twisted in the dark to face the direction of Anomen's voice. "You don't sound very convinced of that." She wondered if Gaelan still investigated Moira's death like he promised, or if her rejection had nullified it.

"Perhaps not, though I am trying hard to believe in it. The more I come to accept it, the freer I feel. Free from my father's grasp. And in spite of all of the bad we continue to encounter, I feel freer and happier than I could have believed was possible."

Jayda grinned to herself and laid back down. "I'll believe just about anything these days."

Anomen chuckled. "Yes," he agreed. "Traveling with you, I can see how that is true. That night I met you in the Copper Coronet, if I had known that one day I would be traversing the Underdark, sleeping in a bed too small in the middle of a deep gnome camp, plotting the invasion of a dark elf city, I would have been too terrified to say hello. And even though I am fearful now… I do not regret the choices I've made. You are my best friend, Jayda. I'm glad to be with you now."

"I'm glad you're here," she said, too touched to say anything more.

"Do you think Jaheira is all right?"

"You shouldn't be worried about Jaheira. She is fiercer than any Sahuagin and more cunning than any Drow. When I first met her, I remembered thinking she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen… and the strongest. I wanted to be just like her."

"And now, my lady?"

"Now? Jaheira is no longer my role model. She is my dear friend."

"I know exactly what you mean," he said. The conversation ended and soon his gentle snoring joined the louder snarls of the svirfneblin.


	32. The Mighty Adalon

**The Mighty Adalon**

The tunnel the svirfneblin brought them before was the most terrifying hovel of blackness that they had ever seen. The mouth of the cave was impossibly high and wide, as though a great demon of the Nine Hells passed through it. Golander gently took Jayda's hand and placed the light gem in her palm. It was a roughly cut yellow stone, unimpressive and dull. He smiled, patted her fingers over the stone, and stepped aside with a sweeping wave of his arm motioning for her to proceed.

She swallowed, took a deep a breath, and ran into the darkness. The steps of her friends were close behind her. Once in the penetrating black, the gem suddenly lit up and illuminated the path as brightly as though they were walking in daylight. They moved through a surprisingly beautifully crafted hallway, as tall and imposing as the entrance. They followed the marble floor to a great staircase spanning so wide, they could all walk side by side with their arms stretched out without ever touching and there would still be room for a few trolls, ogres, and umber hulks to pass.

The stairs were so tall that it was almost difficult to descend and so long did they climb down that she thought they might walk straight into the abyss. Once they reached the bottom, however, a magnificent hall with giant pillars and blazing torches filled their eyes. The room, at first, looked to be made of finely polished granite, but Jayda quickly realized that she was looking at marble and silver. Their footsteps echoed as they walked forward, admiring the majestic beauty of this ancient place.

There was a movement in the back of the cave that caused them all to stop dead in their tracks. It seemed as though the room was shifting, but Jayda realized all too late that it was not the room, only a part of it. Two bright eyes flashed and a dragon rose up before them. The beast was silver with an elegant frill that crowned the angular face and trailed down the long, thick neck. Two long, silver horns with black tips grew away from the top of the head. The smell of rain filled their nostrils and, when the giant, curved wings spread out in a majestic stretch, the glitter of snow sprinkled the ground.

This silver dragon was the most beautiful creature Jayda had ever seen.

"Welcome," the dragon purred in a feminine and powerful voice. "Welcome to my lair. I have watched your progress with great interest. I am Adalon, the guardian."

"My lady," Jayda whispered in awe and kneeled. She didn't know if her friends followed her lead or not, too engrossed in the sight before her.

"Rise," Adalon said, and Jayda did as she was commanded. "My charge is the elven ruins above, an ancient temple that marks the gateway to the Underdark. There are others elsewhere, but this was the first."

"The first what?" Imoen asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"The temple marks where the elves of dark hearts first descended, truly separating from the Elven kind and becoming Drow. The Drow keep the outpost of Ust Natha here as a symbol, one that is fought over regularly, though I have governed the hostilities and seen peace for decades at a time. I have done my duty as well as I have been able for many a century. I was not the first, but I know the history. And I know why you have come to me. You seek passage through the Drow city."

"We came at the Sahuagin's behest to save their city from the Drow. After speaking to Golander Blackrock, we learned the two surfacers we were hunting have also come here and have started some sort of plot involving the Drow. Getting into Ust Natha could help not only us, but the Sahuagin and the svirfneblin as well."

"And me," Adalon said, lifting her chin with a stately elegance, "for there has been a crime here recently, and I can no longer honor my commitment to the old ones. The Drow respected the borders of this place for centuries, only venturing out for sport and small skirmishes. That was the balance. Then _they_ came, the two you seek, this Bodhi and Jon Irenicus. I believe they have made a deal with the Drow for their own safe passage and offered a way to tip the scales against their elven enemy."

"My lady, if I may ask a question…" Jayda hesitated until Adalon nodded her permission. "What elven settlement lies above that they wish to risk your wrath by going to war?"

"It is the elven city Suldanesselar," she replied. Jayda recalled the diaries left behind by her mad tormentor and knew the secret of everything that had happened to her lay in his connection to that place. "You may ask why I do not extend my influence, why these dark elves risk my wrath, as you say. I cannot. Irenicus violated my lair and stole from me and now bargains with my most prized possession. They have taken my eggs!"

Her roar of torment shook the ground around them and it trembled with sorrow and rage. She knew now what the svirfneblin meant about the deep tremors. When the silver lady spoke next, her eyes were alight with white fire and her wings flapped in wild rage.

"I have been informed that to move from my lair is to cause the destruction of my eggs! It is the final affront in a long list of atrocities I have been witness to and I will suffer no more disrespect and indignity!" Her wings snapped back against her long body and her neck shot downward so that her face was level with Jayda's. "You must retrieve them for me. Do this and I will help you leave the Underdark safely and quickly, to a place close to where Irenicus plots his next move. In addition to placing you near your target, I will also make a gift of an item from my hoard, powerful and worthy of your service."

"To safely leave this place is all the reward I could ask for," Jayda said. Adalon lifted her head and snorted.

"Very noble," she said, but there was bitterness in her tone, "though I have had many a person give up on such vows before. My term here has soured me on the company of non-dragons."

"My lady, even before I heard of your task, I meant and still mean to go into Ust Natha. I came here for your help. I know no other way inside the city beyond outright assault."

"You will enter it with subtlety," Adalon told her. "You will take the identity of a group of Drow I dispatched recently, a party from another city destined for Ust Natha. I will transform you, and you will be able to pass among the Drow with ease. They will not see through the fiction I create."

Jayda took a shaky and deep breath. "In that case, it might be easier to assault the city head-on. I know little of Drow society and customs."

"Improvise," Adalon hissed. "They are in the turmoil of war now and will overlook much. They will not turn away extra hands. You will not be discovered by any other means than your own mistakes, so be careful not to make them. The Drow are a proud people, violent and cunning, full of deceit and betrayal. They are a people where only the strong survive. They are ruled by women and even the most skilled of men are looked down upon. Bow when you must, but keep ever-present in your thoughts that you should bow to no one."

"All right," Jayda said. "There is one thing I must see to before we go."

"Then do it and be quick," Adalon warned her. "My eggs are the bounty of delays."

/

The spy lurked in shadows and secrets so deep and complex that even the Drow could not see. He peered at the Matron Ardulace on her throne like some regal queen with the sinister spines of her collar protruding like boney spider legs to frame her aging face. Her daughter, Phaere, stood at her side in an arrogant pose, whip coiled on her hip and her fingers not far from the handle. Their red eyes gazed in noticeable pleasure at the two surfacers as they were ushered into her throne room. The man was Irenicus, tall and sculpted and scarred. His demeanor was imposing and his power intimidating. The woman was a creature of the damned, beautiful and hideous at the same time.

"Things go well on the surface," Ardulace announced. "The temple of their false god has been defiled."

"I am pleased," Irenicus said. "My revenge will soon come."

"We did not act for your benefit, Irenicus," the Matron Mother reminded him, "though you did offer some… interesting opportunities." She smiled a sickly satisfied smile and it unsettled the lurking spy to see her so pleasant and calm.

"Yes, Matron Mother, excuse my careless words," Irenicus apologized and Ardulace waved her hand with lax dismissal. It was then that a side door suddenly opened up and two elven soldiers, beaten so bloody that they could barely stand, were escorted into the hall.

"Our first prisoners arrive, Matron Mother," the Captain explained, her hair pulled tight in a ponytail, stretching her sneering face. Bodhi hissed at the captives, licking her lips thirstily. "These two rank high among the surface scum."

"Their presence sickens me," Ardulace mumbled, nose wrinkling up. "Kill them."

As the Captain nodded to her men and they drew their swords, Irenicus stepped forward.

"Perhaps it would be better to interrogate them first," he said. It was then that one of the captives recognized him.

"Joneleth…" he groaned. "Joneleth, why? What are you doing with these monsters?"

Irenicus growled and began casting a spell, his demeanor suddenly changed. The scarily calm air about him vanished at the words and an angry fury was unleashed.

"You are one of—" But the prisoner's words died on his lips as he and his companions were struck with spells that sucked the life right out of them. Ardulace began chuckling.

"An odd way to question them, Irenicus," she said, amused. "Did you not like his tone?"

"I…" he began, visibly uncomfortable, "reconsidered Matron. Your command was the wiser."

"Of course it was," she purred and the corpses were dragged out of her chamber. The spy watched for a little while longer but no useful information was gleaned so he departed, anxious to see what other events were unfolding with the arrival of so many strange people to the Underdark.

/

After explaining the plan to Golander, Jayda and her friends went back to the granitehome to regroup. They could only take their armor and weapons into Ust Natha as part of an envoy from another city whose party was attacked by illithids. She had never fought an illithid before, but she had been told that they were terrifying and powerful creatures. Jayda was the last to finish preparations, pausing to write to Jaheira about their plan. One of Golander's men agreed to deliver the message to where the Sahuagin were making camp, and he would carry the beaded tunic she was gifted when she left the City-of-Caverns as proof he came in the name of friends.

"Never before have I performed for an audience filled with such dark secrets and vigilant eyes," Haer'dalis said excitedly, following Jayda as she finished scribbling her note to Jaheira, folded it, and carried over to a waiting svirfneblin. "We must embody the spirit of this illusion, dear raven, lest reveal ourselves to our doom."

"I understand the importance of this, Haer'dalis," she told him, tightening her armor and equipping her weapons.

"Do you truly? Inside this dark den, we will witness happenings we will want to stop. We will be spoken to by tongues better cut then yielded to. You will be asked to overlook cruel deeds and execute even crueler ones. We must watch and learn. Observe how these Drow behave and adapt your manner to fit, even should their expectations sit uneasy with you. There is more to this act than simply convincing these dark elves that you are one of their kin. If you appear weak or foolish, or if any of these dark-hearted folk should decide that your death would gain them some advantage, this performance will be over."

"No pressure," she mumbled as she examined her spare blades, using a stone to sharpen a few of the dull edges.

"All the pressure of your lost soul, of Imoen's lost soul, of our safe return to the surface, of our survival rides upon our success."

"Do you have some sort of advice?" she asked, annoyed by his theatrics. If he had something to say, she wished he would just say it. "I know I won't like what I see in there but I know I have to hold my tongue."

"The better question is: can you?"

"Yes. I'll have to." Satisfied by the sharpness of her extra daggers, she hid them inside various secret pockets in her armor. "Any other concerns?"

"Yes. Can Anomen?"

Jayda paused. He brought up a good point. Anomen was the only one left among them who had a difficult time turning away from injustice. He would easily balk at the horrors he saw, she knew. She did not want to leave anyone else behind but to take him with them into the heart of Ust Natha seemed foolish. Jayda sighed.

"He's not going to like this. And I don't blame him," she muttered and closed her sack up tight.

"He need not like it, so long as he obeys," the bard replied, following her as she left to join Imoen and Anomen by the tavern.

"Anomen," she said as she approached. "You need to stay here."

"What?" he gasped.

"Hold on," Imoen interrupted. "You're leaving more people behind? Have you got hit in the head with a rock down here or something?"

"I need someone who can be in communication with Jaheira and Adalon should things progress one way or another," Jayda explained, hoping it sounded as convincing as she thought it did. It was true, though she would never have sacrificed another party member unless absolutely necessary.

"But Jayda, I could be of more use to you out there," he argued.

"You can be of most use to her here. Trust me, Dane, the Drow are not beings associated with justice and goodness," Haer'dalis warned him.

"Is that what this is about? You're afraid I will see something terrible within? I have seen terrible! I am not afraid. My allegiances will not be swayed."

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Jayda said. "I know you will see something terrible, but I believe you will stand up to it courageously… and that is not what Drow do. We must play the part of Drow, partaking in their dark customs as much as we must tolerate them. Is that something you can do, Anomen? To laugh and smile at the beating of a slave? Or cast your bet when they are thrown to market?"

He wavered, horrified by the idea. "My lady, is that something you can do?"

"Not easily," she replied and he nodded.

"I understand. I would not want to jeopardize this mission. I am a Knight of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart and cannot yield to such injustice. You are right to leave me behind. I will wait for your word. Please, be careful."

"I'll do my best, though it's more reasonable, I think, to go at them sword-first with my record," she said with a grin.

"You say 'reasonable' like it's reasonable," Imoen mumbled with a shake of her head.

Jayda laughed, touched Anomen's shoulder in a quiet farewell, and did not look back as they left the granitehome and returned to the waiting Adalon.

"You return," she said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Jayda said, squeezing tightly to Gaelan's frozen flower. "Let it be done."

The magical light that enveloped her was warm but when it subsided, she felt no different than before. Yet when she turned to look at Imoen and Haer'dalis, she went rigid with surprise to see stunning dark elves looking back at her.

"It is done," Adalon announced. "You now resemble the denizens of the Drow city and will speak as though you have spoken their dark tongue all your life. You also bear a house insignia that will not draw undue attention. You are Veldrid Rilynt'tar of Ched Nasad. Only you and your sister, Ranithra, and your envoy captain, Nhilraffyn, have survived. The illusion will last as long as it needs to. Trying to leave through their main gate to the surface will dispel the magic and you will be on your own against impossible odds should you try it. If you are so ordered, best you find a reason to retreat back into the Underdark."

"I understand," Jayda said, slipping the red flower into her now long, white hair. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I wish you speed and success, child. May you recover all that was lost, both mine and yours."

Jayda nodded uneasily and led her friends outside. She turned over the light gem to Golander, noticing how they svnirfneblin shied away from them even knowing they were under an illusion. They were taken as close to the city gates as the deep gnomes would go, and then they made the rest of the journey on their own. When they stood before the massive and imposing gate ringed with spikes and twisted figures, the finality of this decision settled heavily in Jayda's stomach.

"Who's there?" a Drow exclaimed, stalking forward. "There are no scheduled patrols today. Identify yourself! Intruders without cause will be killed where they stand!" he barked. "Speak your purpose."

It was the moment of truth.

"Stand down, male worm!" she hissed, surprising even herself with the level of venom she was able to spew. "I am Veldrin Rilynt'tar from the city of Ched Nasad and I demand refuge. Open your gates and let me pass!"

"My apologies," the guard said, withering away from her. "You are welcome in Ust Natha, of course. We have been expecting your group from Ched Nasad. Where is the rest of you, mistress?"

"We were ambushed by illithids," she barked, "and most of my company were taken or killed."

"Soulafein will be informed immediately," he said. The guard bowed with a grimace and then motioned for the gates to be opened. Jayda stalked forward confidently but trembled inside when the doors banged closed behind them.


	33. City of the Drow

**City of the Drow**

The city was like a great cathedral to spiders, terrifying in its beauty. Domed granite structures and tall pillar-like buildings with staircases spiraling up them were scattered across platforms and walkways, creating at least five levels that Jayda could see. It reminded her of the City-of-Caverns only in the platforms and walkways. There was none of the primal beauty of the sea here, only cold and twisted cruelty.

There were all manner of strange creatures herded this way and that as slaves. The Drow lorded over them with whips and insults. As they passed through a market, a male cursed a 'useless slave' until he beat him so badly the slave crumbled to the ground. That is when his usefulness expired, so he claimed, and he gut him with a hooked dagger where he lay. No one batted an eye at the injustice.

"What is going on here, Leathel?" a female barked as she came upon the scene.

"The slave never listens and I tire of it," the other replied.

"The slave is not your property. He is mine!"

"I'm sorry, my mistress," the man said, bowing. "The slave got out of hand and was punished."

"Understand this, fool! You are easier to replace than a trained slave!"

"But—mistress, please! No—!" But his cries ended in screams as she whipped him to the ground.

"I have other sons," she muttered and then motioned to one of her attendants to slit his throat. When the deed was done, she toed the dead slave and growled in agitation. "Idiot! Where shall I find a slave now?"

Imoen stopped, gaping in horror, but Jayda quickly grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away. The anger that roiled under her skin could not ignite the embers but it still constricted her chest. The Drow were far worse creatures than she had thought they would be.

On their way to the Male Fighter's Society, for that was where a guard had told them to report, an elven slave tumbled past them, sobbing uncontrollably. Her clothes were torn, her skin bruised and broken. She gasped in horror when she saw them and scrambled away, screaming for them to get away from her, to have mercy. Jayda watched her run off and knew she would into true Drow who would flay her before they killed her.

"Ho there!" a male exclaimed as he ran up to them. "Have you seen the surface bitch? 'Tis fine sport but she's quick on her feet."

Jayda clenched her sword, anger nearly blinding her. She had warned Imoen just moments before not to do something stupid, and here she was going to do something worse. Haer'dalis grabbed her arm in warning as Imoen pointed in the direction opposite of where the elven slave had run.

"She went that way," she lied, hoping to send him on his way.

"Excellent! She'll soon taste pain." He had seen Jayda's movements, however, and stared at her suspiciously. "What's your problem?"

"You lose your slave and dare interrupt my business with your miserable problems? I should beat you for your insolence!" she growled, teeth clenched. The anger was real even if the words caused her stomach to churn. The male dipped his head and ran on the way Imoen had pointed him.

"You are the newcomers that have been sent my way," said another and they looked up to the thin, muscled fighter who approached them. "Settling in already, I see. Be sure that you watch who you speak to so venomously. You may be secondborn of your house—" Jayda had no idea how he knew that but was glad someone had let it slip "—but in Ust Natha, we pay for our existence with blood and you shall do the same. I am Solaufein. Have you a name, vagrant? Or shall I simply refer to you as the female?"

Jayda back-handed him hard across the jaw, eyes flaring. He must have seen something in her that surprised him because he visibly flinched.

"The name is Veldrin, worm," she told him. "Speak to me again in such a manner and I will cut your heart out before they stop me."

"If you are to be our shepherd while here, fine," Imoen piped in, enjoying the game. "But do not make the mistake of thinking that we bow to you. Or are you woman beneath those rags? I demand we are treated with the respect we deserve."

"Hah!" came his bark of laughter. "You shall get none from me, regardless of your achievements in Ched Nasad. You are a foreigner here and no better than a slave until the Matron Mothers think otherwise. However, your spirit will serve you well in Ust Natha, if you know when to show it." He stepped closer, glaring first at Haer'dalis, then Imoen, and finally at Jayda. He stood only a few inches taller than she did. "Your time in Ust Natha will be far less unpleasant if you perform as you are commanded."

"Solaufein!" a woman screeched, rushing up to them. "Quickly! Matron Ardulace's eldest daughter has run afoul of devourers while scouting! Her fool companions fled or were slaughtered and she was taken captive!"

"How could this happen?" the warrior bellowed but the woman glared him into silence.

"They know a prize when they have one, the devourers. They will bring her to their city, and should they reach it she shall be lost forever. With our warriors busy on the surface, there are none to see to Phaere's safe return. The Matron Mother bids you and the newcomers go. They fought their way through the devourers to come here. They will be of use to you."

The woman—Jayda guessed she was a priestess by the way she was robed and bowed to—led them through the city toward a set of gates. "Take this blessed token of Lloth. It will pull the devourers from their astral travel before they reach their secret home." She whirled to face them as they reached an intersection. "If you succeed, you may please our Matron Mother. Cling to that sole hope, worms, and do not fail her… for if you do, the exquisite horrors of the Demonweb Pits will be your reward."

And with that, the woman was gone. Solaufein glared at them.

"Meet me at the gates," he said. "I will rouse a few others."

Jayda, Imoen, and Haer'dalis made their way to the gates and found an out-of-the-way nook to wait in.

"What are devourers?" Imoen whispered.

"Illithids, I think," Jayda replied.

"Have we ever killed an illithid?" she wanted to know.

"No. You?" She turned to Haer'dalis but he shook his head. "I guess we'll find out. Let's hope they die like any other."

They waited for a while longer but Solaufein did not appear so Jayda slowly paced away from her friends, trying to calm her nerves. She paused next to a cage with a strange looking creature in it and wondered what it was. That was when Jayda felt someone beside her, shoulder brushing hers. She looked to her right and up at the sharp, handsome features of rather tall Drow male. Unlike every other Drow she had seen, his head was shaved clean and he wore the most colorful array of clothing. He grinned at her, tilting his head so that she could see the eye patch wrapped around his head, covering his right eye.

"The lady Veldrid," he began with a gracious tilt of his head. "Off to rescue the Matron's daughter, are we?"

"And what business of it is yours, male?" she snapped, not liking the gleam in his eye. It reminded her too much of the twinkle in a rogue's eye whenever he was out for mischief.

"None at all, of course," he replied then added, "none that it would seem. Nasty work, killing devourers. But the walkways are filled with rumors of the hundreds you've slain on your expedition to this empty city. I'm sure a small band like the one carrying poor Phaere will be no trouble for you."

"I've come up against little that proved to be troublesome to me," she told him, suddenly uncomfortable. He chuckled and it reminded her a little of the way Gaelan used to laugh at her when they first met, laugh at her ferocity and stubbornness when she tried to pry information out of him, information he was unwilling to give.

"You must be quick, indeed," he said, "to slay them before they unleash their psionic powers upon you. So many Drow have been left helplessly overwhelmed by their power, their brains leisurely devoured. It is a wonder you came so far and through so many. With skills like yours, you will quickly be recognized here in Ust Natha."

Jayda swallowed the lump in her throat. Psionic powers? Mind control? Brain devouring? _Mask, what in the Nine Hells have I gotten myself into?_ She instead exhaled a steady breath and nodded.

"I have no doubt of that, stranger." That's when she saw Solaufein coming through the crowd and shifted her weight, ready to get on the road. She hoped it would be a long journey so that she could come up with a plan to face this new and terrible foe.

"I will be watching," he whispered and, when she glanced over her shoulder to comment back, he was gone. She rejoined Imoen and Haer'dalis as Solaufein approached with three more warriors.

"Let us depart," he said, and they exited the city.

/

The spy watched the two surfacers as they debated in the journey room. Irenicus was donning himself in finely crafted armor made for a mage while the female paced back and forth.

"Are you sure you want to return to Athkatla?" he asked, annoyed. "I can't understand your obsession with that filthy city, not while our revenge is at hand."

"_Your_ revenge, brother," Bodhi replied. "You will make them pay for what they did to us. I have no doubts. But Athkatla will be mine. The children I sent ahead of my arrival report a city prime for reclaiming and I intend to make the Shadow Thieves beg before I bleed them dry. It is only fair I get the blood of my choosing when you will be in Suldanessellar, spilling the blood of _your_ choosing."

"Then do what you wish," he muttered. "I will see to the Tree of Life and then I will send for you. I suppose you do not need long to reclaim your city."

"No," she purred. "Smile, Jon. Your victory is at hand."

"It is far too late for that." He frowned. All he could do was frown. "But perhaps, when it is over, I may yet again learn how."

Bodhi shrugged and took the shimmering portal to some other distant land. Irenicus finished dressing himself and took a long look at his appearance in a strange and unique mirror he had brought with him. He seemed satisfied, but it was not the clothes he looked at. It was something else, something beneath his skin—a power that only the mirror could show. It was terrifying and heavenly, but it also had the familiar remnants of a woman the spy had only recently come in contact with.

There was more to these strange surfacers—the sibling duo and the trio chasing them—than any of the Drow believed.

/

When they had gone far enough out into the Underdark, Solaufein produced the blessed token of Lloth and began uttering an incantation. Jayda had managed to come up with a plan and, during the journey, quietly told Imoen and Haer'dalis the nature of their foes and how she intended to deal with it. Their arena was a small clearing surrounded by thick clusters of stalagmites.

As Imoen began casting, Jayda picked out the positioning she would have them take. Mirror images of the three spare Drow that had accompanied them appeared. Jayda had been afraid a mirror image of themselves might have produced a mirror image of their true selves, so they had decided to use the others as targets. Imoen ordered the ethereal copies to stand where Jayda pointed, in the center, and then she told Haer'dalis and her sister where to hide. She caught the glare from Solaufein whose faced said he thought she was insane.

"Do you think she knows something we don't?" one of the others asked his companion.

"Perhaps. She killed fifty all at once, didn't she?"

"I heard it was one hundred."

Jayda rolled her eyes and approached them. "Are you bait as well?"

"No, mistress," one replied. "We fight as we were trained."

Jayda shrugged and took up her hiding spot. They waited as Solaufein finished the spell. Suddenly there was an unearthly screech and lights flashed as several creatures teleported into the plane. A drow female tumbled to the ground and rolled near Solaufein's feet. Five tall creatures with squid-like faces and milky-white eyes screamed at them, each possessing a pet umber hulk at their heels.

Jayda cursed at the odds, and the first wave of psionic powers was unleashed upon the magical decoys. She tossed two dangers but only one hit home, driving deep into one of the mind flayer's backs. He screamed and wrenched backward, his pet barreling around to see who had attacked its master.

Imoen let loose a spell and darted through the stalagmites to another position and casted again. She stopped after every spell to find a new hiding spot and then cast again, just as Jayda had instructed her. Keep out of sight, she had been told, no matter what.

Haer'dalis slipped among the ranks of Drow as they attacked the umber hulks and nearest mind flayers. One of the soldiers was hit with a psionic wave and he fell to the ground, hands gripping his head in torment. Solaufein jumped over the unconscious Phaere and attacked head on, swords flashing with speed. They managed to cut one of the hulks down before a second soldier was killed. Imoen's magic arrested a second hulk and Haer'dalis quickly flipped in and cut it down.

Jayda tossed one more dagger and then ran out to slit the throat of the illithid that she had caught with her blade, twisting his squid-like face. She grabbed the tentacles and jerked one way while dragging her dagger the other. Then she was back among the stalagmites, just like Haer'dalis, and searching for a new opening. Solaufein and the remaining Drow dodged the charging umber hulk that trampled over their mind-flayed friend. They slipped up next to the illithid closest to them and attacked, but by that time the illithids had gained control of the battlefield.

All around, screams began to erupt as the mind flayers dominated Solaufein and his Drow comrade. Imoen was next, stumbling out of the stalagmites and grabbing her head in agony. Haer'dalis slipped in to kill one of the mind flayers but his blade was stopped short of the creature's heart and he, too, succumbed to the psionic power.

One of the charging umber hulks barreled into the spires where Jayda was hiding. She jumped out on top of his back and ran, leaping through the air and bringing her blades down into the squishy head of the remaining illithid. They dropped to the ground and she rolled, ripping her victim's tender head apart. As the illithids turned to deal with her, she looked deep inside herself and felt the embers rolling through her bloodstream. Her friends and allies were twisting on the ground in pain, drooling as their minds were stolen from them.

How could they fight this foe?

As the psionic blast struck her, it rebounded and tossed the creatures to the ground. Jayda screamed as she struggled to unbuckle her armor as quickly as possible. The flames rising up inside of her were overwhelmingly hot. She knew turning was a horrible idea, knew it could cause more damage than the mind flayers were, but here in the bleak darkness and surrounded by evil on all sides, she didn't know if it mattered.

Jayda threw herself to the ground as the spines grew out of her back. She hissed and dragged each ragged breath through clenched teeth, cheeks puffing as she gasped for air. Pain filled her from head to toe, raking screams from her throat. And then Jayda was gone.

The Slayer roared at the tentacle-faced creatures and saw their milky white eyes fill with fear. They unleashed psionic attack after attack, but the Slayer was beyond their realm of influence. Her claws ripped one of them to shreds with a single swipe. An umber hulk lunged at her and she batted it aside, cracking its hard shell of skin so that its guts spilled onto the ground. She stomped after the others, screeching as they fled. They could not escape her.

She picked one illithid up and ripped its wiggling head right off its body. She brought her fist down on an umber hulk, smashing it into paste on the ground. She dispatched every single enemy as her heart began to beat faster and faster, so fast she thought it might rupture. A pink-haired creature peaked out from the stalagmites and she lunged for her, scraping and clawing. She broke the spear free and the creature fled across the way. Jayda leapt after her, heart near to exploding. And then the beast was released and Jayda fell to her knees, steam rising off of her back. She groaned and gasped, limbs shaking as her void-black skin became the ebony-gray of her disguise once again.

"Jayda," she heard Haer'dalis whisper. "Veldrid," he said louder, running to her side. They had been released from the psionic hold the moment the illithids had seen her transformation, it seemed. He dropped to his knees next to her, gentle hands carefully touching her shoulders. She hissed at the touch and he withdrew.

The Drow who had been blasted with psionics slowly rose, hand to his head and pain splayed across his face. Solaufein gaped at her.

"What are you?" he gasped, eyes roaming over the dismembered corpses around them. "What have you become?"

"Just be grateful for your life," Imoen snapped, kneeling protectively in front of her. She reached out to touch Jayda's head but decided not to and pulled her hand back.

"Your eyes," Solaufein persisted, "are… are made of gold."

"It'll go away," Jayda panted.

"You shouldn't have done that," Imoen whispered. "Not even for us."

"I can't lose any more people, Im—Ranithra," Jayda replied.

"You are chosen of Lloth," Solaufein said, but it was more of a question than a statement. Then Phaere groaned, regaining consciousness, and he rushed to her side. Imoen quickly helped Jayda back into her armor as Phaere awoke and Solaufein helped her to her feet, but as soon as she saw his face, she jerked from his grasp.

"Are you uninjured?" he asked her bitterly.

"Solaufein," she scoffed. "So… Matron Mother sent you, did she? How that must gall you, risking your life to save mine. It is about time, too. I was beginning to think that they would reach their illithid city, after all."

"I did as I was commanded," he replied, lowering his head. Jayda could see the anger in his expression from her position kneeling on the ground. She slowly rose as Imoen and Haer'dalis helped her stand.

"Yes, you did," Phaere purred condescendingly, eyeing the unnatural corpses with a raised brow, "as any male should. You have done well enough, I suppose, you and your… assistance." That's when she turned to Jayda and Imoen. "Who are these with you?"

"They are—"

"I can speak for myself, male," Jayda interrupted him, although she felt an ounce of pity for the way Phaere was treating him. He had come to her rescue, after all. "I am Veldrid Rilynt'tar of Ched Nasad."

"And you?" Phaere asked, pointing at Imoen. Her eyes roved over the mage girl's form like Gaelan used to do to Jayda.

"Ranithra of House Rilynt'tar," Imoen replied. "And this is our captain, Nhilraffyn."

"Mistress," Haer'dalis said respectfully, bowing at the waist.

"Foreigners," Phaere said thoughtfully. "How very odd. We shall have to speak more, you and I, once we are back in Ust Natha."

"Then let us be on our way," Solaufein growled. "The longer we stay here, the more likely the devourers will come looking for their friends."

"I shall head back to the city on my own and inform the Matron Mother of your… successful service, Solaufein, however surprising it is," Phaere said sharply. "You have proven useful… in spite of the odds. You should be grateful."

Jayda gritted her teeth. She may not have liked Solaufein, but Phaere was just an outright bitch. The tension between them was easily recognized—the bitterness of former lovers. She had no idea what had happened to turn them against each other, but their mutual hatred was plain to see. Still, Solaufein had to bite his tongue and bow to her while she swept his efforts aside like trash and cursed his uselessness. Jayda had witnessed the whole fight. Even though they had been overwhelmed, Solaufein was no novice, that was for sure.

"You're planning to return on your own?" he balked. "No! What if you encounter danger once again? I shall not be responsible for—"

"You will be responsible for whatever I deem necessary!" Phaere spat. "You're touching 'concern' is unwarranted as it is unwanted. I can handle myself. This is my command. You have no choice in the matter. Farewell."

As the proud woman marched off, Solaufein lowered his head. Under his breath, she heard him mutter ti himself.

"Blasted, arrogant wench… May the Spider Queen bite at her black heart." Then he lifted his head and said, "Let us go before her over-confidence endangers us all."

Jayda restored her weapons on her hips, retrieved her daggers, and followed them back to the city, wondering how she would survive this culture long enough to save the Sahaugin and svirfneblin, and recover the lost dragon eggs. She wondered how many other predicaments might ask her to sacrifice herself to the Slayer. She shut her eyes tight, determined that it wouldn't happen again. She took deep, slow breaths, forcing herself to overcome the physical and mental effects that she endured after transforming.

In the Underdark, she could not appear weak. In Ust Natha, she could have no weakness at all.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to my buddy Sill who suggested the Slayer transformation as a way to deal with the illithid. They're such tough bastards.


	34. Revenge Gone Wrong

**Revenge Gone Wrong**

As they entered the tavern where Phaere was laughing and drinking with other females, Solaufein snarled in agitation. Clearly, he did not approve of being summoned here like a common servant. Jayda and her friends, on the other hand, were told to rest and relax for their service. She was glad for the opportunity to gather her wits and dig in to a more solid understanding of this strange society. A tavern was the perfect place. If there were rumors of war or stolen dragon eggs, this would be the place to hear it, if it was at all like any other tavern in the world. At this point, she was no longer sure.

"You handled yourself well out there, if not unconventionally," Solaufein said, interrupting her thoughts. "Bad enough I had to worry over Phaere's safety. I was not about to start concerning myself over yours."

Jayda snorted, amused. "The moment that happens, Commander, exile yourself before they can kill you." She smiled and clapped his arm. "Besides, two of you died out there. The way I see it, your conventions aren't working."

"What happened to you out there... I have never seen anything like it. Not even the driders are capable of such."

"Just hope you never see anything like it again."

She felt his glare on her back as she strode into the tavern and found a table to sit at. She watched Solaufein go to Phaere and they exchanged harsh words. Then, he stalked off to a quiet table, ordered a drink, and sulked alone. She rolled her eyes. It was not her problem.

Phaere strolled up to the table soon after, her hips swaying languidly and a full goblet of red wine in her long, delicate fingers. "So Veldrin arrived at last to greet the female that she rescued so valiantly from the clutches of the filthy devourer," she purred.

"Solaufein must have been invisible and uninvolved during that encounter," Jayda replied with a tight-lipped smile. Phaere grimaced.

"That fool," she mumbled. "His uses extend to the licking of my boots and that is all. Ignore his existence unless it is to torment him. That is what I do." She smiled. "Besides, the rumors of your transformation have spread across the city now. Some say the male is made. Either way, you dispatched a group of illithids without even a scratch. Mother Ardulace was pleased by your performance. She was delighted to learn you are such a powerful fighter. We had not expected the secondborn of Rilynt'tar to be a warrior. Your sister," Phaere's eyes seductively lit up when she looked at Imoen, "is thirdborn and a mage yet you are not. Strange. Amongst the Drow, only the strong survive."

"I do not need magic to survive, Phaere," Jayda retorted. "I use what serves me best."

"Interesting." She sat up and waved over another Drow. "Szordrin, this one here is the fighter from Ched Nasad the rumors are buzzing about. You challenged her prowess, did you not?"

"Mistress, I wouldn't dream of challenging the prowess of a noble female—" he started to reply but she interrupted him with a hiss and a flick of her hand.

"Veldrid fears nothing in your cages, pit master. Do your worst."

"There are many here who would desire to see if you fight as well as they say," Szordrin told Jayda. "You are Nasadran, but they say you fight like the Spider Queen's chosen."

Jayda narrowed her gaze on Phaere as the pit master stepped aside. Jayda got up and followed him to the arena. The moment he opened the iron gate, a crowd began to gather around. Even Solaufein's interest was piqued, probably wondering if she would transform again. No doubt that was Phaere's reason for this little show.

"You could have slaves at your beck and call, rewards at your fingertips… the favor of Lloth," Phaere murmured and sipped her wine. "How does that sound?"

"Like a trap. What's the catch?" Jayda asked, tightening her bracers.

"The catch is that you have to earn that favor, Veldrin. Favor and comforts are not given out lightly. They must be purchased with blood and sacrifice."

She smiled as Jayda was herded into the pit. Bitterness was a rank taste in her mouth. How she hated this woman she barely knew.

"Why don't you go ahead and carve out her heart now, Phaere?" Solaufein asked, linking his fingers through the bars. "You will get to that point eventually, won't you?"

"Silence!" she hissed, her eyes gleaming as she watched.

Jayda slowly withdrew her swords, wondering what hellish beast she would have to slay to move on with her night. More umber hulks? Another illithid? A dreaded and terrifying svirfneblin slave? She was sickened by this. Not even half a year before, she was in Athkatla killing slavers and destroying a fighting arena just like this one. Now she was forced to fight in it. Not a slave in name, but a slave no less.

"A dreaded Nabassu of the lower planes," Szordrin announced, "was captured by the Handmaidens for crossing a Matron Mother! Here it will fight the Nasadran to the death!"

"Nabassu?" Jayda repeated, stunned. "Are they out of their mind?"

The stone door on the other side grinded as it rose, and she felt the noise in her bones. Her knees bent ever so slightly, keeping the weight on her toes light as she waited for what was to come through. A hellish scream blew a foul stench into the room and a great, red beast with tattered red wings flew out of the black hole. Jayda dodged to the side as its black claws raked at her. She slashed and ducked, slashed and rolled, scrambling around the arena as the demon lumbered after her.

It flapped its torn wings and dove for her again, scraping metal. A long, thick tail lashed out at her. She dodged it but was knocked to the side with a powerful sweep of its arm. It was strong, she realized, and the claws were sharp—they had left bright slash marks on the ground—but the beast had little other power to use against her.

She led it in circles to wear it down, occasionally dancing in to slash at its red limbs. She knew she could not hurt it this way and that was not her goal. She needed to anger it. In blind rage, it would charge and do something stupid. It didn't take long to wind the creature up. Ignoring the shouts and taunts around her, she led the hellspawn around and around until he took to charging like a frenzied bull. Three times he smashed his head into the cage bars, once near Phaere, causing the wench to spill her wine.

Minor victories, Jayda supposed.

Then, when the Nabassu lunged again, Jayda flipped back. The beast stopped short, having learned something, but that was what she had wanted him to do. The moment he slid to a stop, she leapt on him, hooking his wings in her blades and planting them deep into his shoulders, pinning his wings against his body and trapping his arms beneath him. She grabbed him by his curving horns and planted her boots against his cheeks. She pushed hard on his face, straining to maintain her grip as he swirled into the air and angrily beat his wings. She ripped a dagger out of her boot and slashed his eyes until they were a bloody mess and then twisted her body, using the horns like reigns to flip him onto his back.

Jayda angrily ripped one of her swords out of his body and hacked at his neck until he stopped flailing. Shouts and cheers rose up around her as she sawed one of the horns off of his head. When she approached the gate, Szordrin quickly unlocked it. Solaufein was staring at her and his expression, for the first time since she had met him, was not one of disgust, but rather an impressed sort of awe. This fight, she knew, he could understand, unlike what she had become out in the caves.

Jayda dropped the horn into Phaere's hand. "A gift for the mistress," she muttered and slammed her bloody knife back into her boot. She sat down at her table and took a sip of the drink that was brought to her.

"That was quite the performance," Haer'dalis told her with a grin. "Handing Phaere the horn was a nice touch. Be careful not to overstep your boundary."

"Aw, she was overstepping hers," Imoen told him. "I don't like her one bit. She looks at me funny, too."

"I noticed."

As Jayda looked around, she saw a female leading a man upstairs and an idea sparked in her head. When Phaere joined them, she dropped the horn on the table, ignoring the blood that splashed across its surface, and sat down with a fresh goblet.

"That was quite the performance, Veldrid."

"Yes, and I have chosen my reward." Jayda smiled and pointed to Solaufein. "I want him."

Imoen nearly spit out her wine.

"What?" Phaere snapped. "Now, you have proven yourself useful, but this does not give you the right to make demands of me! Why should you be so bold?"

"Why?" Jayda echoed. "Did you want him for yourself, Phaere?"

"Of course not," she hissed. "A lowly, pathetic worm such as he."

"He is attractive and I am tense. If I am to have a companion, I want someone who can handle my… performance. I want him." Jayda smiled again. Phaere tiled her head to the side coyly and then grinned.

"I can appreciate that you know what you want. And it would suit him to be reminded that his place is to serve. Yes. Why not? Solaufein!"

"What do you want, mistress?" he asked when he drew closer. His words were spoken through clenched teeth. She did not even look at him when she spoke. Her gaze was locked on Jayda's.

"I place you in Veldrin's service, Solaufein. It is her wish, and mine as well." She idly flicked her eyes at him. "I had better hear no complaints from her. Enjoy yourself and pay him no heed, Veldrid. Solaufein can be sensitive that way…"

He snorted. "Stroking your pet is hardly a fit task for a warrior of my skill."

"Be quiet, fool. You have received an order, and you will obey. Just as you will obey any other order I give you. Be as rough as you will with this one, Veldrid. He deserves no better. I will, however, require that Solaufein be fully fit by tomorrow morning," Phaere warned her with a twinkle in her eye and Jayda stood up, trying her damndest not to roll her eyes or spew a snappy retort. With hatred in his eyes, he led her toward the stairs.

"Enjoy him, Veldrid," she said again at their backs. "You shall not have him again."

Jayda grinned to herself. It seemed as though, in spite of Phaere's performance, she truly had been annoyed at the request. Good. As long as Phaere was annoyed, the next few hours with the fighter would not be a total waste of time.

When they entered the lust chamber, Solaufein closed the door and stared at her as though he had momentarily believed she was worthy of something more than hatred and then, by this request, she had betrayed his trust.

...

The spy hadn't had this much fun dabbling in Drow plots in a long time. It was all betrayals and murder—the usual, rinse and repeat. Then again, surfacers did not enter Menzoberranzan or Ched Nasad in any other way but in chains.

"So I must satisfy Phaere's new favorite?" Solaufein asked bitterly and pulled his shirt off. "Are you ready?"

The spy wondered if she would go through with it.

"Shut up and sit down," she barked. The fighter glared at her and did as he was told, taking the only chair. Veldrid went across the room and sat on the side of the bed farthest from him. She looked utterly exhausted. The minutes ticked by as Solaufein waited patiently for the act to be done. When Veldrid continued to sit there and brood without so much as glancing at him, he fidgeted and stood up.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Sit," she hissed. "Be quiet."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. How long do these sorts of things usually take?"

The spy laughed. Behind the wall, he would never have been heard.

"Pardon?" Solaufein snorted. "A few hours, sometimes more."

"Damn it," she cursed. "Then there's no helping it. Now sit down."

"For how long!" he exclaimed.

"A few hours!" she shouted back and the spy chuckled some more.

"What's going on? Why are we just sitting here?"

"Solaufein, I have no intention of going to bed with you. I only wanted to get under Phaere's skin, that's all. So just sit there and relax, meditate, glare at the walls—whatever it is you need to do."

He shook his head and began unlacing his breeches. "It was ordered and I will obey."

"No!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet. "I told you, you aren't my target. Phaere is."

"And you shouldn't tempt her moods, newcomer. Now stop protesting and let this be done and over with." He took off his boots and went to remove his pants.

"Stop it! I told you, you don't have to do this. You don't even want me! Why are you pushing it?"

"What does wanting you matter?" he asked. "I was told to please the female and, be it below my station to be used as a common pleasure slave or not, I must obey."

"You would do that even if you hated it?" Veldrid asked, frowning. There was something resembling concern in her features, but only the spy would recognize such emotions having had many dealings with surfacers in the past. Being that concern for others was an emotion that did not exist in Drow society, Solaufein did not understand her expression and just stared at her in confusion.

"Are you mad or just stupid? Of course I can, and will. What difference does wanting you make?"

"In the current predicament, none really," she replied. "But in other situations, to some people, it matters. Put your clothes back on, Solaufein. I do not want you."

"You told Phaere you did—"

"To piss her off! That's all!"

"Would you believe that one could have the favors of a guild fighter so easily?" he balked, clearly offended at being requested and then rejected.

"With the way you carry on, you'd think I just rented out the Matron Mother herself!"

Solaufein gasped but the spy laughed out loud. Truly, this Veldrid was a spectacular woman. He was looking forward to meeting her.

"Are you serious?" the fighter finally asked.

"Yes. I'm not trying to trap you, I swear. And when we go downstairs, I will tell Phaere how pleased you made me, and I expect you to complain about it or praise it or whatever remains true to your expressive character."

Solaufein hesitated as she sat back down. The spy understood this confusion and unwillingness to believe in what was being said to him. If Veldrid had been any other Drow, the fighter would already have her on her back, his face buried between her legs, fingers delicately stroking her most sensitive areas. How could a female take him and not take him?

"You truly won't do this? Even if I say I want you?" he finally asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"My heart is spoken for," she replied, taking both Solaufein and the spy aback. After a moment, Solaufein laced up his breeches, slipped into his boots, and pulled his shirt back on.

"I have never been rejected like this," he mumbled as he sat down in the chair and crossed his arms.

"Instead of rejection, think of it as respect."

Solaufein snapped his eyes on her. "You are the strangest Drow I've ever met."

"Have you ever been to Ched Nasad?"

"No."

"If you had, you might not think me so strange."

He would, the spy knew. Veldrid's peers counted only a handful in the Drow community. He watched them sit in silence until she sparked a casual conversation. It did not last long. Minutes later, she tried again but to no avail. Just when the spy was prepared to find other sport, she asked him to tell her about Ust Natha.

"It is the first," Solaufein replied, eyes closed and head tilted back in a meditative relaxation.

"The first what?"

"Really? You do not know your lore very well, do you?" the fighter sneered. "Long ago, when our despised cousins of the surface betrayed our kind and banished us to the depths, it was near this very place that the Drow first descended. A terrible legion, we encountered implacable foes at every turn through the Underdark. It was in this place that we first gathered together to protect ourselves. Ust Natha means 'the first'… the first place we gathered. The first place we wrested our birthright of power back from the sentence of our hated cousins. It is from Ust Natha that we invaded the cities of the stout folk and established the first, greatest kingdom of Telantiwar and wondrous Bhaerynden. Both are gone now, but Ust Natha remains." He sighed. "A reminder of the debt of blood we owe to our hated surface brethren."

"Are you reciting from a book?" Veldrid asked with a sarcastic smirk.

"It is a story handed down through the generations," he corrected her.

"I believe that. You tell it poorly," she said and he scoffed. "I do not think you believe your own words."

"How do you mean? It is history! I cannot choose to believe in it or not."

"Not that. I'm talking about your descriptions of your 'hated surface brethren'. You say it but there's no hatred in your tone."

"Of course there is! What else could it be?" he barked, jumping to his feet.

"It isn't anything. There's no hatred, there's nothing in your voice when you say the words. You don't even know what it is you should hate, do you? You've never even been to the surface, have you?"

"No. It doesn't matter. I know the histories!"

"Knowing isn't enough," Veldrid said. "You have to believe. Convictions without belief are hollow things easily broken."

Solaufein clicked his tongue and sat down again. "Strange Drow," he muttered. "If all Nasadrans are like you, I would be glad to never meet another ever again."

Veldrid laughed and tiredly laid her head on a pillow. "There are no Nasadrans quite like me," she promised. The spy grinned and touched the glass with which he spied her. That was a promise he was looking forward to seeing in action.

/

Since the quarterly guild meeting, Gaelan had heard of three more attacks where the victims bore marks like the ones the Night-Fiends had left behind. The Shadow Thieves had begun investigating but did not believe it warranted panic just yet. Still, there had been several mysterious ships to come into harbor at night over the last few weeks and he wasn't certain that Bodhi and her damned clan had not returned to Amn.

So he had begun an investigation of his own, one that Arledrian deeply protested. At night when he wasn't working for the guild, he prowled the city. The part of him that believed Bodhi had returned wanted to find her, to have the chance to ask her what had happened to Jayda. The sane part of him told him that even if the vampires had come back to Amn, he should steer clear of them and their hunting grounds.

But Gaelan had always lived through risks, and so every night he took to the streets once again in search of what he both dreaded to find and hoped to encounter.

/

Downstairs, Imoen and Haer'dalis were being entertained by the storytellers of Ust Natha. Apparently—as each of the men were quick to point out—the Ust Nathans told stories of their heritage, exploits, and feats. It was an old custom, they said, and were very quick to educate the Nasadran newcomers on just why they were better than any other Drow in all of the Underdark.

Even though most of them acted offended that they had never heard of these stories, Imoen could see how delighted they were to have the chance to tell the tales again. As the coldfyre braziers burned warmly and their goblets continued to be refilled, laughter became less of a rare thing at their table.

"Not that tale," Merinid said. "We've all heard it a hundred times."

"Yes, I suppose. Of course you'd know the role Ust Natha played in the Scattering," Baragh grumbled.

"The Scattering?" Imoen asked with a hint of a grin on her lips. In spite of having little knowledge of the dark elves and having despised all she had seen of their culture so far, she was intrigued by almost every tale they had told. The ones about butchering surfacers and innocents bothered her and it was hard to laugh and drink in celebration of such horrible feats, but most of the stories had been about survival and power and overcoming the odds. Those stories she did like.

"Bah!" Baragh exclaimed, nestling into his chair to tell his story. "Your house-mother should be flayed alive for her neglecting of your instruction! When the magical battles caused the collapse of Bhaerunden, the great cavern once held by the dwarves, most Drow were crushed. Only the favored survived. Groups of Drow fled the rubble in every direction, seeking new holds to establish their power, set upon by our enemies. _That_ is the Scattering," he explained quickly.

"Ah, I see. Yes, _that_ Scattering. I'm with you now," she said.

"Ust Natha was untouched by the great war," he continued, "and hordes of Drow came to our walls for protection. Devourers and eye tyrants followed, seeking to eradicate them. For one century," he bellowed theatrically, "our enemies waged constant war upon us! But the walls of Ust Natha held and we pushed our enemies back in a merciless victory! Many of the Drow then left Ust Natha to find larger living spaces, more resources to plunder… establishing your beloved Ched Nasad, amongst other places. There would be no Ched Nasad were it not for the walls of Ust Natha!"

Several of the others growled their agreement and took sips of their wine in a strange sort of cheers. Imoen laughed and leaned over to Haer'dalis.

"Is it strange that I'm already feeling a sort of loyalty and pride for a place I've never been?" she asked. "Part of me is dyin' to get up on that table and make a toast to Ched Nasad and Ust Natha."

"My lovely wildflower, if you are so immersed in this deception, perhaps a stage would better be your home. Should you choose to salute your role, I will happily stand and join you as befits my character."

"Good to know you have my back." Imoen grinned and licked her lips, gaze sweeping across the room. "You know what surprises me even more than the cruelty of the Drow?"

"What is that, wildflower?"

"The vanity! Look at them all. How do you think they get their clothes to stick on them? And the hair! It must take hours to twist it up like that, to tie all those decorations in there." She elbowed him. "Do you know how to braid? I'm feeling a little out-dressed."

Haer'dalis laughed. "Perhaps later I can come up with something."

"Good deal."

"I have a tale for you, if you're interested," Merinid exclaimed, drawing their attention back to the table. "It's something my house-mother once told me."

"Tell it," Haer'dalis encouraged him. "Don't leave us in suspense."

"Very good! Hah!" Merinid smiled. "My tale… my tale begins long ago, when our people first descended into the great depths and dark caverns, during a day when our homes were not carved out of stone and clay. Drow homes were made of twigs and black grasses, grass that many had brought with them into the Underdark. There were few homes, of course, but the largest belonged to the first Matriarch!"

Imoen smiled. She liked Merinid's stories the best. He made wide gestures when he spoke and his tone fluctuated with the telling to heighten the suspense of his tale. She could almost see it for herself.

"The Matriarch led the early hordes of Drow, helping them to survive in hostile lands. She was powerful, potent and cunning—a great boon to her people, who admired her greatly. To honor her, a group of Drow set upon the shark-fiends and stole the stone throne of their King to secretly present to the Matriarch as a trophy. They stowed it in the grass rafters of her Hall." He took a quick sip of wine to wet his throat and continued. "The Matriarch arrived in her Hall and the Drow warriors went to retrieve the throne, but much to their horror its weight caused it to fall through the grass rafters and crush the Matriarch below!"

"Oh!" Imoen gasped in pleasant surprise.

"It is a sad, sad tale of our early travails in this dark place," Merinid said with a grin and feigned sorrow, "and it holds a moral, as well. Can you think of the moral, female?"

"Do not stow thrones in grass houses," Imoen replied.

"Yes! Yes! That's it exactly!" Merinid bellowed, shaking with drunken laughter.

"Imbecile!" a woman shrieked. "How dare you tell such a moronic lie about the history of our people! Lloth will sentence you to an eternity of poisoned agony for such madness!" And she stormed out in an angry huff.

"Bah," Merinid muttered, waving her words away like he might an obnoxious fly. "The Spider Queen has no sense of humor… Now, Vhaeraun, on the other hand…"

"You'd best stop there," Ilmryn said, "lest another priestess hear you."

It wasn't long after that that Imoen saw Jayda and Solaufein descending the stairs. She shifted in her chair anxiously, barely able to restrain her curiosity at what had happened upstairs. Phaere, however, got to Jayda before she could get to the table.

"You enjoyed your time with Solaufein?" the female purred.

"Very much so," Jayda replied with a coy smile. Phaere looked to the fighter who grudgingly stalked behind her.

"I pray your tasks will be more worthy of me in the future. It has been done, and my House will be informed of this slight," he growled and walked away.

"Maybe I bit too hard," Jayda mumbled. Phaere grinned and touched her arm.

"It is fortunate we have met, Veldrid. Together, we will do great things." She began to walk with Jayda toward the table, their conversation growing easier to hear even though Phaere's voice dropped to a whisper. "One day, House Despana shall be the most powerful in Ust Natha. I am the strongest and eldest of Ardulace's daughters. And when she is weak and I kill her, I will become the Mother Matron of my House. Soon, fortune shall move House Despana above all others in Ust Natha, and I shall be Matron Mother of Lloth's most favored… stay close to my path, Veldrid. As long as you serve me, you will have a place of honor in my designs."

And then the female was gone. Imoen watched Jayda gape at the empty place where Phaere had been before dropping into her chair.

"How in the Nine Hells do I manage to make friends with the person I've decided is my enemy?" she mumbled to herself.

"I figure its cause everything's backwards here," Imoen said. "Never mind that, what just happened up there?"

"Nothing," Jayda replied. "I was baiting Phaere, nothing more."

"Nothing at all?" Imoen asked, disappointed. "Aww, you should've at least had some fun with it." But when Jayda glared at her, her jaw snapped shut, opening only to mutter under her breath, "I would'a…"

"Did you learn anything?" Jayda wanted to know.

"Very little outside brief histories of this place and the unsurprising revelation that all Drow think they are the gods' gift to the Prime," Haer'dalis replied. "Aside from that, there are whispers of a great blood-letting planned upon our hated brethren of the surface world… or perhaps war is to be made on the devourers. There is no agreement on the enemy, only on the fact that Ust Natha is going to war."

"Mm," Jayda murmured thoughtfully. Imoen slid her drink toward her sister.

"Drink up," she said. "You look like you could use a good brew."

"You don't brew wine, Immy," Jayda reminded her.

"Rani," she corrected her. "My name is Ranithra now, sis, or did'ja forget?"

Haer'dalis laughed and pointed at her. "This one is ready for a stage, don't you think, my raven?"

"A ways to go yet," Jayda replied with a grin.

"Hey now," Imoen protested, but she was smiling, too.

/

Jayda closed the door to the bedroom she was given, thankful for some privacy. Life as a Drow was utterly exhausting. As she unbuckled her weapons and peeled off her armor, she rolled her shoulders and stretched, trying to work out the tension in her muscles. She moved into adjoining room where a hot bath had been drawn, kicked her dirty, shredded clothes to one corner, and sighed as she lowered herself into the water.

It had been weeks since she had been able to have a warm bath and it was doing wonders for her aching muscles. Some special type of salt created a soothing steam that went straight to her head and lungs, clearing her nasal passage of the dust and debris she had been snorting since entering the Underdark.

As she washed and scrubbed herself, she noted how all of her scars had remained on her body. Her finger traced the hook across her hip and abdomen, mind filling with the awful memory. She found other scars to trace, recalling the exact moment she received each one. And then she brushed the one on her arm given to her by Prince Villynaty. _Know who you are or you will never know yourself_, he had said. She had been thinking about it ever since, especially on the cold, black nights traveling the Underdark, and in the moment after she had become the Slayer for a second time.

It was true she didn't know much about her father or what it meant to be a Bhaalspawn. She knew that her father was a god and the Lord of Murder, an evil being that she wanted nothing to do with. All she had known about accepting that fate could be summed up in Sarevok, her demented half-brother who had razed the Sword Coast following in their father's footsteps. But Jayda had learned that not everything was black and white, that it was a world colored in gray. Was she being childish by believing that owning up to her identity as a Bhaalspawn would only bring horror? Had she no faith in herself that the acceptance of this fate would change her to something she despised?

And yet her existence had brought nothing but pain and suffering and death. She did not have to extend her blade to kill someone. In a way, she fulfilled her father's wishes whether she wanted to or not. Accepting her fate could turn her into the monster she was slowly becoming, and it wasn't so hard to believe in light of her history.

Jayda filled the cloth and sopped water on her shoulders and chest. Even if she could accept her divine soul, it was gone. There was, however, something left. The Instinct. But Jayda was afraid of it, of what it might turn her into. Her dreams were filled with the Instinct, plaguing her to accept that part of herself, to accept it and the Slayer and her father's destiny. But what if she used it instead of it using her? Back in the City-of-Caverns, she had believed wholeheartedly that it was impossible and entertaining the idea would bring nothing but regret.

But what if it wasn't true? She had managed to destroy the illithids and return to normal before causing further harm. The Instinct was a part of her. It was _her_ instinct, wasn't it? Or was she playing with fire? It was impossible to know for sure. And yet…

Bhaal had spilled his seed and she had grown from it, but he had died. He had never touched her, held her, or spoken to her. All that she was came from him and his mother's union, not from a ritual or tutelage. That made her creation no different than anyone else's. Her divine spirit was as much her doing as her hair color or eye color or the point of her ears. So why did she feel so… responsible?

As the water grew cold, Jayda decided she would look deeper into herself. If she found the Instinct of no use but to kill, she would shun it and never look back. But if she could somehow be made better by knowing herself, if she could somehow control her fate and her dark urges by embracing all that she was, she would try. She felt responsible for all of the bad that had happened, and now she had to try to take responsibility for herself. She couldn't run away anymore, not without trying, not without knowing herself.

Jayda climbed out of the tub and reached for the towel.

"You have a great many scar, even for a Drow," a familiar voice said and Jayda quickly drew her towel tight around her. She whirled to face the intruder: the bald-headed man from earlier. He grinned and shifted his eye-patch from his right eye to his left and she was surprised to see that both of his eyes were fully intact and functioning. "I apologize if I startled you."

"How the hell did you get in here?" she hissed.

"A more interesting question, surely, is why I've come, dear Veldrid," he said. He pulled his wide-brimmed hat with the giant plume off his head and gave a sweeping bow. He jingled when he moved. "I am Jarlaxle, the leader of Bregan D'aerthe. Charmed, pretty lady."

Jayda had no idea what Bregan D'aerthe was, but she had the sneaking suspicious she should. Something about the way he carried himself with rogue-like confidence reminded her of Gaelan. Perhaps it was that or the fact that she was practically naked in the room with a strange man that had her heart beating so fast.

"Why _are_ you here?" she asked.

"Because I still have a job to do," he replied, placing his hat back on his head. "With all of the troops sent to the surface, the city is laughably undefended. Another house will be pleased to know their conquest has been made so easy."

"And what conquest is that?"

"Surely one that does not require you to stand there shivering in nothing but a scrap of cloth."

Jayda narrowed her gaze on him and wished the towel covered more of her. She retreated into her bedroom, noting the jingling steps as he followed her. She collected the fresh clothes supplied her and wished there was a changing screen. Carefully holding the towel to her frame, she struggled into the underwear.

"So Ust Natha is waging war against the surface," Jayda said, keeping her back to him.

"The ploy begins and ends with House Despana," he told her, "and at the behest of two surfacers, no less. Strange, don't you think? But they have brought with them a way to the surface and a way to revenge, and Matron Mother Ardulace has taken it. Even other Drow see the folly in this."

Jayda discarded her towel and reached for the sleep-gown, dropping it over her head. When next he spoke, he was right behind her, and she jumped in surprise. How had he managed to sneak up on her so completely when before any tiny movement had caused him to jingle?

"Even with the activity on the surface," he continued, "most of my men are back in Menzoberranzan. This war and the patrol skirmishes have taken many of those I brought with me, and I've hardly anyone left to do what I require done. I can't go asking just anybody, now can I?"

"To do what?" she asked, turning to face him. He grinned.

"Assassinate the Matron Mother Ardulace, of course. And end this ridiculous climb to the surface. She believes she acts in the name of Drow, but her intentions are motivated by the surfacers. We cannot be used for their revenge. This will be no problem for you, I'm sure."

"I never said I'd help you."

"Ah, but I think you will _want_ to do this," he murmured. "You wouldn't want your true identity revealed, would you, Jayda?"

Her heart stopped for just a second and then resumed its rapid beating. Her lungs felt deflated and no matter how deep she breathed in, she felt deprived of oxygen. Jarlaxle chuckled.

"There's no need for such a glare, Jayda. I am confident you are up to the task."

"H-how?" she gasped.

"The illusion is very good," he assured her, "but not good enough to blind my magical devices. While everyone else sees you as a Drow, I see only your ivory complexion and that vibrant red hair of yours." He reached out and gently grasped a few strands, rubbing them between his fingers. "Don't be afraid. There will be no reason for me to betray your identity as long as we can work well together."

"I assume you have a plan," she said, standing perfectly still. Her mouth was dry, chest constricting.

"For now, wait. I am a very patient man, Jayda. I prefer to capitalize on the most opportune of moments, and such a moment has not yet come. I am, however, quite interested in the details of why you entered this masquerade of yours."

"I'm here for the Sahuagin and svirfneblin," she confessed, finally finding the courage to step away from him, beyond the reach of his gentle fingers. "For Sekolah's Tooth—if it still exists—and for Adalon's stolen eggs."

"Ah, the silver dragon, yes… Her magic would be the source of this deception. When it comes to the Drow, fight fire with fire, as the saying goes." He placed his hands in his pockets. "And the surfacers?"

"I'd like to kill them if I can."

He smiled. "Then a trade of services will benefit us both."

"How can I trust anything you say?"

"I suppose you can't," he said as a matter-of-fact. "Ask yourself this: what other choice do you have?" Then he extended his right hand. "Partners?"

Jayda looked first at his hand then at his face, hoping to glean some sort of truth. She couldn't. He was as unreadable as any talented rogue. Thieves, she knew, had an honor code different to that of society—any society—but it was honor none-the-less. She reached out and shook his hand.

"Partners," she agreed. He smiled a roguishly charming smile and tugged her closer.

"I'm looking forward to more of your performance, Jayda," he said with a wink, and then the mysterious Jarlaxle was gone.


	35. Secrets

**Secrets**

As they waited for the svirfneblin patrol to walk into their 'trap', Jayda mused over how they had wound up there in the first place. Phaere had not been short of tasks for her to accomplish, nor Solaufein, or anyone deemed worthy to order her around. For weeks, she had been tasked with one thing after another. Do this, do that, kill this, kill that—it was like working for Edwin all over again! Up until now, she had been required to harm no creature not considered evil by the surface world, duergar and beholders mostly, but her patience was wearing thin. In the Drow society, she was an honored female! She should be put in charge, lavished, praised, and ordering underlings around to do her bidding! Not that she wanted to, but a respite from the constant commands and quests would have been nice, and allowed her to gather intelligence on her mission.

She had not spoken with Jarlaxle since that night in her room. Every time she thought of him, however, her thoughts became cloudy and her cheeks felt flushed. He reminded her so much of Gaelan—his body built like a rogue's shadow, his confidence and smirk, his strangely attractive features… Even though he spoke well, unlike Gaelan, he had the same cleverness that her Shadow Thief had. It made her miss Gaelan more than ever.

"I get the feeling," Jayda began angrily, "that no matter where I go or who I am, I am destined to be someone's errand boy. Did I join the Faerunian Problem-Solver Society and no one told me?"

They only laughed at her ramblings and ignored her. She blew out a lungful of hot air and waited in the quiet of the cavern. Phaere had ordered them to slay a svirfneblin patrol, something Jayda had no intention of doing. She came close, however, to the task being forced upon her.

"_The Matron Mothers have decided the deep gnomes have not shown enough fear of the Drow as of late," Phaere told her. "We must correct that. And glad am I that you have come. Solaufein's pathetic melancholy has nearly drained my patience, so I shall be brief and send you on your way." The woman turned to the male fighter and sneered. "You would you like that, Solaufein, yes?"_

"_Just spit it out, if you must," he mumbled._

_Phaere gave them the details of the mission and told them where to wait. They were to return with proof of the deed, and Jayda hoped that heads would not be required._

"_Ah, yes, I am sure the gnomes will be suitably impressed by our display of viciousness," Solaufein muttered. "No doubt they have no inkling what we are capable of."_

"_What is this?" Phaere all but sang. "Are you losing your stomach for blood, Solaufein? The Spider Queen would be displeased to hear such, I would think."_

"_I save my wrath for the Drow's true enemies," he told her. "Lloth knows this, as does the Matron Mother of my own House."_

"_It is not for you to decide, male!" she shrieked and Jayda was glad to see someone was successfully getting under her skin. "I shall have your bloody heart ripped from your chest on the altar if you continue to speak!"_

_Before it could get out of hand, Jayda stepped in. "I don't need Solaufein's help," she protested in agitation. "My sister and I can handle a few gnomes. Let the fighter keep his strength."_

"_Keep my strength—" he began angrily, but Phaere laughed, suddenly over her roiling rage._

"_Solaufein, are you worried Veldrid may request your services again should you be fit enough for her play?"_

_Suddenly the male fighter smirked. "If she requires my services again, she need only ask me."_

"_What?" Phaere snapped._

"_The deed was not entirely devoid of pleasure, Phaere, and I wouldn't balk at another opportunity to please such a noble female."_

_The fire in her eyes almost caused Jayda to laugh out loud. She managed to hold her tongue however, even when she caught the glimmer in the look Solaufein transferred to her. She smiled small and briefly, but enough that he would know she was amused._

"_How dare you!" Phaere hissed at him and Jayda took that as her opportunity to leave._

"_I'll let you two work this out. I have svirfneblin to hunt."_

And so she had managed to bring her companions out there alone. They waited two hours for the patrol to show up. Jayda withdrew the flower from her hair and held it out in front of her. She had instructed Golander that if she was ever out in the Underdark and happened upon any of his men, they could recognize her by the flower she carried.

When the svirfneblin came into view, they stopped short in shock. She extended the flower some more, hoping they would recognize it.

"My name is Jayda," she said, pointing to the flower. "I'm friend to Golander Blackrock."

The svirfneblin exchanged glances and murmured in deep speech. Then one of them came forward and spoke in the Drow tongue.

"I know of you, I do," he said. "We be asking for your purpose this place for being. Golander says send you he did to the dark one's city time ago."

"Yes. I, ah… I need you to give me your helmet, actually."

"My helmet part of uniform, is. Giving it up, I simply cannot be. Why needing you helmet?"

"I need it to prove to the Drow that I have killed your patrol," she explained and a gasp of alarm shuddered through their ranks. "I have no intention of actually doing it."

"Most alarming this is!" the leader exclaimed. "Why would the dark ones be killing us?"

"It seems you don't fear them enough, and they want to send a message."

"We be fearing dark ones plenty!" he exclaimed in his broken Drow speech. "Always could they be all killing us, if they be wishing to!" He pulled his helmet off and handed it to her. She replaced the flower in her hair and tucked the helmet under her arm. "Grateful, we are, for your mercy!"

"I wouldn't have harmed you," she reiterated.

"Grateful, we are," he said again. "We will be going now and telling deep lords and Blackrock that much bowing and scraping to dark ones is to be done." And with that he began herding his fellows off. "May the Deep Brother be smiling you kindly, always," he said over his shoulder.

Jayda sighed. "Let's get back," she mumbled. "I'm sure they're itching to get us back to work."

/

Imoen roamed the markets while Jayda was off dealing with Phaere and Solaufein. She preferred to avoid Phaere as much as possible. The way she looked at her gave her the creeps. So she took to the markets. Even though she appalled slavery, she enjoyed seeing creatures that she had only read about in stories.

As she drew near a strange fish tank longer than she was tall, she pressed her nose to the glass and tried to get a better look in the murky water.

_Hear me…_ a wraith-like voice hissed in her mind. _Hear my thoughts… I have a service I demand of you… one that you will perform discreetly and with haste._

Imoen blinked, wondering if she was hearing things, and then saw a great fish eye staring at her. She made a face.

"Eugh… Is that you?" she whispered.

_Yes…_ the fish murmured. _Hear your thoughts, I can._

"Erm… not sure I approve of your presence in my mind."

_Your approval is irrelevant!_ the fish exclaimed. _Your thoughts are transparent, surfacer!_

Imoen gasped and the eye squinted at her.

_Yes, I see what you are. I see what you hide from the others… You will do the task I set before you, or your identity will appear in the mind of every Drow in this city! Are my thoughts clear?_ it asked and she nodded. _Good. Now I command of you a deed of violence! I call for a death that I might learn more of this place. It is simple, brutal, and well-suited to your kind. Qilue, a priestess… I would learn of her faith and the power it grants… Her mind is the prize, and I would have you bring it!_

"Are you mad?" Imoen whispered, and then remembered she could communicate with her mind, so she said the words in her head. _There is _no way_ for me to drag a Drow Priestess to you. Everyone will see!_

_I do not require her as a whole. As I said, it is her mind that I require. Kill her. Slay her in her home and temple! Retrieve her brain and bring her to me! That is the task. That is the command I give. You will obey or I will reveal you, and you will die._

"So…" Imoen began. _You plan to hold me in service against my will to perform this evil task?_

_That is what I have just directed, yes,_ the fish replied.

"Yes, hmm, let me think for a minute. Uhm, _no_. No, I don't think that is how this is going to work, fish."

_Fish? Perhaps I have not made my thoughts clear._

"Oh no, I understand completely," she whispered. "I simply refuse. What's more, I'm telling you to shut up."

The fist hissed at her through the glass. _I have outlined the threat I intend. I do not bluff. Fear me!_

"You are in no position to act on your threats," she reminded him. "I will tell _you _what to do."

_I have warned you!_

"And now I warn you!" she exclaimed and then glanced around to make sure no one was staring at her for her outburst. When the coast was clear, she jabbed a finger at the glass and whispered, "I will reveal your treachery if you breathe a word of this!"

_What?_

"You can't harm me or I'll expose you, too. I die, you die. Simple. So shut up!"

_You are a strange individual. I release you to avoid trouble for us both. Leave me, volatile one._

"You'd better believe it," she said with a smug smile. "See ya!"

_You are dismissed! Go!_ the voice hissed after her.

Imoen rubbed her hands together for a job well done and lost herself in the crowds. The nerve of that fish thinking he could solicit her to do his dirty work. Well, she sure told him where to go. She wondered if that was how Jayda felt all the time. Perhaps she would have to teach her friend how to tell these jerks off.

/

Jayda grumbled as she made her way down the walkway back toward the tavern. Would they never run out of things for her to do? She pushed open the tavern door and surveyed the commons. Neither Imoen nor Haer'dalis were about so she retreated to her room. The moment she closed the door and turned around, she found Jarlaxle lying on her bed, legs crossed and arms behind his head.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he declared. She quirked her brow and idly sauntered into the room, slowly removing her armor and stacking it on a nearby chair.

"I was wondering the same of you. I've been the acting slave for your kind for weeks now. I didn't agree to your plan so that I could indoctrinate myself into the Drow world."

"Don't be so bitter, Jayda," he said. "Your efforts are exactly why I'm here. It seems you have finally caught the attentions of the Matron Mother Ardulace and she will summon you to her side very soon."

"She will?" Jayda asked and paused in the removal of her leather breastplate. "How do you know?"

He grinned, hopped up, and crossed over to her, jingling as usual. "A business like mine thrives on information. What kind of rogue would I be if I revealed my sources?"

Jayda blushed, recalling Gaelan's similar words to her when she was looking for information on the identity of those that swore to aid her in finding Imoen. It seemed like such a lifetime ago, since that day and since she had seen Gaelan. She wondered if she would ever get out of Ust Natha and the Underdark, if she would ever see him again.

Jarlaxle reached out and finished removing her chest piece. Embarrassed, Jayda swatted him away from her body and took off the rest of her armor across the room.

"You've come for a reason, then? You think now might be the time to act?" she asked and hoped her voice didn't tremble with nervousness.

"Soon, but not yet. The Matron will require a service of you, but I intend for you to surprise her before she can vocalize her request." He produced a vial of dark liquid. "The blood of a kuo-toan prince," he explained. "Present it to her as a gift when you meet her. She will most certainly be pleased. Then, if things go as planned, we will be well on our way to concluding this complex business."

Jayda reached out and took the vial, making sure not to get too close to him. She examined it closely and then nodded. "All right."

"If you do this, when the Matron lies dead, I will give you Sekolah's Tooth and the silver dragon eggs."

"You will?"

"I promise." He gently touched his hand to his breast. He wore a colorful vest but no tunic underneath, exposing his finely honed body. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away.

"Then I will do it," she mumbled, tucking the vial away somewhere safe. Jarlaxle, however, did not depart. He stood there for a long time and she could feel his eyes on her, boring holes straight through to her missing soul.

"Will you?" he finally asked. "And how might you accomplish it? As a Nasadran? A half-elf? A rogue? A beast?" He smiled when she whirled to face him. "I know you're secret, Jayda."

"Then if you know… you know how important getting out of here is to me. I don't approve of your culture, Drow, but I do not wish to end this in a blood bath. I will shed no tears, however, if I am betrayed and forced to tear this city apart. I am a Bhaalspawn. Murder is in my blood. I won't cry for any of your kind that comes at me with swords and spells. Try and stop the Slayer, if you can. I'd welcome it!"

Jarlaxle did not skip a beat. He was not surprised, not afraid, not pleased, or even concerned. He simply made an "ah" sound and nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and jingling across the floor in a slow and thoughtful pace.

"A Bhaalspawn in Ust Natha. Now that is something."

"Wait, you didn't—"

"I knew there was something different about you, but the 'what' of that thing eluded me." He flashed a charming smile. "The mage, Irenicus, stole something from you, didn't he? Some part of your power."

"How did you know that?"

"I saw it," he confessed, "in a special mirror the mage kept before he departed Ust Natha. The mirror showed his power, his soul, and I could sense him in it. But I saw something else there, too. It was you."

"He stole my divine soul. I have to get it back."

"You want it back." It was a statement, not a question, but the way his eyes bore into hers, she could sense that he knew her feelings were to the contrary.

"I don't," she admitted, "but better I bear the burden than he. He'll destroy thousands with that power. I only want to disappear… to be a thief in the night. Besides, without my soul, the Instinct remains unchecked. I… I turn into a terrible thing. And it is fearsome, and I despise it." Her eyes flashed in a glare. "But I would not hesitate to use it if you betray me."

"There's no need for threats, dear Jayda," he said. "We're partners, after all." He slowly walked over to her without making a sound. "You make an amusing Drow, but you are a good rogue and an excellent fighter. If your wish is to be a thief in the night, I would gladly welcome a woman of your skills to my merry band should you find yourself without anything to do after you've reclaimed your soul and killed this mage, Irenicus."

Jayda grinned. "I appreciate the offer, mercenary, but I think living underground would suit me ill. Sometimes it's… hard to breathe under all this rock. And Ust Natha could never be my home."

"Nor mine, beautiful lady," he replied with a theatrical shrug. He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, slowly circling her while he toyed with the red strands. Whenever he touched her, the illusion seemed to subside as long as they were in contact. She could see her red hair between his fingers, her ivory skin beneath his fingertips. She longed to be herself again.

She closed her eyes and saw Gaelan, felt him touching her, just like in the cavern by the pool. It had felt so real then, but this time it _was_ real. He was really there. She could almost believe it. Her heart ached in longing.

Jarlaxle chuckled softly and released her. She turned around to demand to know what was so amusing, but he was gone. _Just like a rogue, _she thought and wrapped her arms around herself. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

/

As Jarlaxle had promised, Jayda was summoned to meet with the Matron Mother the very next day. She dressed in her finest set of armor—the one Phaere had gifted her. It didn't fit as well as her old armor, but it was in better condition and decorated with the Spider Queen's symbols. She cleaned her weapons and donned every single one before heading out to meet with the Matron.

The Temple of Lloth was the largest structure Jayda had seen in the city. It towered toward the ceiling and the giant carving of a spider enveloped it as though the large dome were its belly and the eight, thin columns that surrounded the structure were its legs. The head came down just over the door where sinister mandibles stretched to the floor, creating the portal with which to enter.

Jayda stepped through the jaws and into the bowels of the creature. Her skin crawled as though she had really been consumed by the spider, and the deeper she went the closer she felt to Lloth. It was a sickeningly terrifying feeling.

"Ah, here you are," Phaere exclaimed when she saw her. "Matron… this is the female that I spoke to you of. Veldrid."

The woman who turned to look at her was surprisingly young and beautiful. She wore a high collar with curving spikes that framed her face and long, elegant drapes of a woman blessed by Lloth. She smiled sickly sweet.

"I can see her well enough, fool girl," the Matron replied in a calm voice, but the insults bit with venom. "You think I am blind?" She scrutinized Jayda with a harsh eye. "I see nothing special about her. What fascinates you so?"

"Matron, she is an excellent fighter and has rid House Despana of so many of its problems," Phaere replied combatively.

"_This_ is that one? Illithids, eye tyrants, gnomes—are you sure?" the Matron narrowed her gaze on Jayda. "To me she looks scrawny, and there is… something… odd…" She trailed off and stared in a long moment of silence. Then, she pointed at her. "You, girl! Veldrid, is it? You have proven yourself competent. This is good. House Despana needs competence, a rare commodity when one is surrounded by fools." She threw a glare at Phaere. "House Despana is about to embark on the path to greatness, Veldrid. You can tie yourself tightly to us, or wallow with the weak that fill this place needlessly. Mother Lloth approves of the successful and gravely punishes the failures. Which will you be?"

Jayda kneeled on one knee, ready to bounce up should things take a sharp turn for the worst. "I stand with House Despana, of course," she said and extended the vial of blood Jarlaxle had given her. "And I bring you this gift: the blood of a kuo-toan prince I slew, to honor a new age when House Despana rules and even the princes become slaves."

Just as Jayda was wondering if she laid it on too thick, Ardulace whispered, "You… you have it? You have brought me that which I would ask you to retrieve before the words even left my tongue!" There was a crack of pleasant laughter. "My dear child, you are a rare and wondrous creature indeed. I see Phaere's wits have not entirely left her. Ah, the Spider Queen smiles upon us. Our gamble does not go wasted, daughter. Your champion has brought us the blood that we need." Ardulace took the vial from Jayda's hands and she got to her feet in time to see the Matron spin around and hold the vial high, as though an offering to the holy spider above them. "Praise Lloth! The ritual may finally begin. Despana will rule Ust Natha without question as the pre-eminent House!"

"What of the others?" Phaere asked. "What of the silver?"

Ardulace spun back around, arms to her sides. "Yes. We must be cautious. Nothing can be allowed to disturb the ritual before it is completed."

"You are going to seal the city, Matron?"

"Yes," she replied gravely and Jayda felt herself begin to panic. "We cannot be disturbed from the outside should the silver one grow desperate. I shall go now and begin the proper preparations. Veldrid," she snapped and Jayda almost jumped. "You have done House Despana the greatest of services. You will be a female without equal. Riches and slaves shall be yours, so long as you continue to serve me."

"Veldrid is my servant, matron—"

"Without equal, Phaere," Ardulace hissed, "you included. Veldrid belongs to me now. Tame that fool tongue of yours before I cut it out." To Jayda, she smiled and said, "Rest, now, strong one… there is nothing more for you to prove to me."

And then the Matron Mother was gliding away, her robes trailing on the floor. They watched her go in silence. When Jayda glanced at Phaere, she was fuming and her ebon-gray skin was purple with rage. Was this the relationship of all families in Drow society?

"Mother…" Phaere spat. "Not for long. Veldrid!" she hissed and took two strides to stand almost pressed up against her. "You are mine. Your loyalty is not called in to question. You stand with me, yes?"

"Of course," Jayda replied, wishing she would step back even just an inch.

"Good. I have a plan… a plan that will place me as the head of House Despana even as we take our place as the rightful ruling House of Ust Natha. Do as I say and your rewards will be unimaginable. Refuse and… well, why would you refuse? You have everything to gain, Veldrid. _Everything_." Phaere walked out of the temple and Jayda kept close at her side. Once they were well away from the temple, she continued. "In order for this plan to be successful, you must betray the Matron Mother. Are you willing to do this? Think carefully on your answer."

"You have been the one I've served, Phaere, not your mother. I do not know that woman and I do not wish to."

"Good. You heard Matron speak of the ritual? She will use the blood to summon a demon of terrible power to aid our attack upon the surface elves. To secure that aid, we will offer the eggs of a silver dragon that has guarded our passage to the surface for centuries. No longer a problem, I assure you," she murmured with a sly glance in Jayda's direction. "With the demon on our side and the revenge set on our cousins made possible by our labors, we shall become pre-eminent. But there is no rule that states Ardulace must still be the Matron Mother of such a powerful House."

Phaere led Jayda to her private quarters. Once they were locked inside, she pulled a key on a chain from around her neck and handed it to her. With a smile, she motioned Jayda followed her and she led her into a small room where three gleaming silver eggs were perched on a cushion. They were as big as babies and no doubt three times as heavy, but they were utterly beautiful.

"Go to the treasury, Veldrid," Phaere said. "I will make sure the path remains clear and the vault unguarded. Steal the eggs and replace them with these fakes I have constructed. Bring the authentic ones to me during the ritual and, after Matron is killed for her hollow offering, I will offer the real ones and complete the ritual. Is that clear?"

Jayda nodded, apprehension in her gut. Was her escape of this place finally at hand? "Yes," she replied, dropping the key around her neck. Jayda gathered the eggs in a dark velvet back that Phaere provided for her and was appalled by the weight of them. She would have to see Jarlaxle about that. Lugging around dragon eggs would not be something easily gone unnoticed.

"There is one more thing I require of you," Phaere said before Jayda could leave. The ambitious woman withdrew a jeweled dagger from the belt on her hip and handed it to her. "Kill Solaufein."

When Jayda took the dagger, Phaere plucked Gaelan's flower from her hair. She started to reach for it but her hands were full. The woman laughed, sniffed the petals, and then gently tucked it into her hair. She laughed and walked away.

* * *

**A/N:** When I did that fish quest thing... I laughed so hard. I had completely forgotten about it, so I decided to include it for laughs. Maybe it's an ounce out of character, but it gave me an opportunity to write Imoen, and to capture how different she is from Jayda. Plus... it amused me. :)


	36. Intrigue With Jarlaxle

**Intrigue With Jarlaxle**

Haer'dalis led Imoen through House Despana's halls. As promised, they were unguarded. The bag Imoen carried held the three fake eggs but looked no bigger than a coin purse thanks to Jarlaxle's many magical devices. They scurried down the corridors toward the treasure room, praying no guards accidentally returned to their post. Haer'dalis pulled out the key, unlocked the door, and he and Imoen slipped inside.

The treasure vault was filled with gleaming wonders, but the silver dragon eggs were, by far, the most precious. They had seen the fake ones Phaere had given them and they were nothing compared to the glittering jewels Adalon had brought into the world. They looked like perfect ovals of snow and they sparkled like thousands of tiny diamonds were buried within.

Imoen opened the bag and carefully handed each egg to Haer'dalis, who traded it for one of Adalon's eggs. Once they were replaced on the altar, they closed the bag up tight, returned it to Imoen's belt, and hurried out of the treasure room. Haer'dalis locked the door and they rushed down the hall.

The clack-clack-clack of armored footsteps caused the bard to throw himself into an alcove behind a column and he yanked Imoen in behind him. They waited in absolute silence, exchanging shaky, hot breaths with how closely they were pressed against each other. Haer'dalis could feel Imoen's racing pulse as the guard clacked by the column and moved on down the hall. There was a slight blush to her cheeks. He could tell the girl had some kind of affection for him, even if it was only base desire. And yet he felt nothing.

Imoen was a child of Bhaal just like Jayda, and yet that couldn't seem to impress him. There was no chaos in her, no tragic beauty that he saw when he looked at Jayda. If he could muster enough emotion for Imoen, he knew he could have her. He would never have Jayda. But he couldn't muster anything for Imoen. He couldn't change his heart, couldn't trade one Bhaalspawn for another. They weren't the same. Another twisted layer of his psyche was revealed: did he want Jayda all the more because he could not have her? It frustrated him to think it.

When the noise had faded, he peeked out from their hiding place, ensured the coast was clear, and then took Imoen's hand and let her toward the exit. She squeezed his fingers tightly.

/

Jayda climbed up the side of the Male Fighter's Society building and snuck into the room she had been told was Solaufein's. He was sitting by his desk, forehead in his hand, quill in his fingertips. She didn't know what he was writing, but she watched him for a long time, perched in his window. How easy it would be to slink over and slit his throat. Even for a warrior so skilled as he, she could be a ghost when she wanted to be.

Instead, she dropped her feet on the ground, purposefully making enough noise to send Solaufein launching to his feet and whirling around to face her.

"Veldrid!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?" When he saw the jeweled dagger she raised, he stiffened. "I see."

There was a long pull of silence before Jayda asked, "Why does she hate you so much?"

"What business is it of yours?" he spat.

"I could have killed you by now. I can kill you still. What harm is there in talking for a bit?" She waited for that nod of reluctant surrender and then repeated the question. "Why does she hate you so much?"

He sighed. "Phaere and I were… lovers once. Mother Ardulace felt Phaere cared for me in a most _un-Drow-like_ fashion and had her taken by the Handmaidens. They tortured her with tentacle rods—tortures I can only shudder at the thought of. When they were done, all that remained of Phaere was her ambition. And I… I remained only as a constant reminder of her weakness." He tiredly rubbed his face with his hand and Jayda felt sorry for him, pitied Phaere, and hated Drow society even more than before. "It was only a matter of time before she acted. No alliance of mine to any House could prevent the unseen dagger from plunging into my back."

"No alliance to any House," Jayda agreed, twirling the dagger between her fingertips as she lounged against the window, "but the strangest Drow you've ever met."

"Yes." He frowned, regarding her in a way Jayda couldn't read. "But you are not Drow, are you?"

Jayda shook her head. "No."

"I think I knew that all along."

"What gave me away?"

"Your warped sense of justice, for starters," he replied, sitting in his chair. "The way you used me to get back at Phaere, but did not use me. Any other Drow would have taken the chance but you didn't. You tried to find the most Drow-like ways to keep your ideals, but those ideals do not exist in Drow custom."

"I've noticed."

"And then there was the thing you said to me… that your heart was spoken for. You are a woman in love. And Drow do not love, not if they wish to remain Drow."

"But you loved Phaere… and she loved you."

"Yes, and now we are two hollow people who despise one another." He tilted his head to the side. "She will kill you when her plans are completed."

"I know."

Solaufein narrowed his gaze on her, wearing a mask of confusion, and then he lifted his brows with revelation. "You plan to kill her."

"Yes."

"Good riddance." He got to his feet. "Will you tell me your name before we do this? Who you are, what you are?"

"My name is Jayda. I'm a half-elf. I hail from the small town of Candlekeep. I helped kill the tyrant of Baldur's Gate and end a war that threatened to burn the Sword Coast. I traveled south to Amn where a mad wizard tortured me and killed my friends then stole my soul. I've chased him this far where he has used your people to start a war against the elves in the name of revenge. I'm going to kill him, Solaufein," she tapped the dagger blade against her knee, "but not you."

"No?" He seemed too surprised by this to speak. "Why?"

"Because you aren't like the other Drow. Because I am not an assassin. And mostly because you do not deserve to die."

Solaufein cautiously approached her, hands placidly by his sides. She knew that if she let him that close and he decided to turn on her, it would be easy for him to snatch the dagger and use it against her. She didn't believe he would. Something about him did not disturb her the way the other Drow did. Like Jarlaxle, he was different.

"Since you are form the surface, I will tell you something I would tell no other: the Spider Queen holds no sway over my heart," he whispered. "I will leave Ust Natha and I shall not betray you or the mercy you've shown me."

"Where will you go?"

"I do not know. Perhaps, I will seek out others like me. There must be more, others who feel the Drow have strayed from the path, others who believe we can yet be saved from ourselves."

He took the dagger from her and placed a deep cut on his arm then he removed his piwafwi cloak and ripped it with the bloody blade. When he was finished, he handed her the blade and the cloak. Jayda made a face then dug into her a pouch on her belt, drew some bandages, and wrapped up his arm. He touched the white gauze like it was utterly strange. Perhaps it was, she thought. Not the bandages, of course, but the fact that someone else had put them on him.

Jayda smiled and tentatively reached out to touch his shoulder. "I hope you find what you're looking for. Good luck, Solaufein. And goodbye."

He reached up, hesitantly, and slowly covered her hand with his. His brow was knit in a tight frown, his mouth set in a stern line. She could tell this tender behavior was foreign to him but also that he fiercely desired it.

"Thank you… _Jayda_." Her name did not easily leave his lips. "Farewell."

/

Gaelan's prowl through the city had been fruitless. For weeks, he had wandered the streets of the many districts—the Temple, the Slums, the Bridge, and even the Graveyard—but there had been no presence of the Night-Fiends. Yet in the mornings, he heard of another attack and cursed that he had missed them.

That night, he wandered the Docks. There had been a ship on the horizon that day, slowly drifting closer and closer to Athkatla, and he was anxious to see if it carried more of Bodhi's children. He lurked near the port, keeping to the shadows, and waited in absolute silence. The noise from the taverns was a faraway backdrop that clashed with the rolling waves. A sea breeze brought a blast of cold wind his way and he tightened his arms around himself. It was getting colder.

"Well, well," a sinister whisper purred near him. "What do we have here?"

Gaelan calmly turned to see a beautiful woman with an eerie presence lurking toward him. He could feel the death on her, the chill of evil, and knew that this woman was a vampire.

"A little thief lost in the night," she continued. "A special thief. The mousey became enraged when I told her that you would still be special when I returned to Amn. She turned into a hellish creature when I assured her that I would look after you in her stead."

Gaelan grinned, carefully drawing a stake that he had tucked into the back of his pants. "Bodhi comes to me in person. Quite an honor, so I'm told."

"It is," she agreed, and several more vampires appeared behind her. "You know me. How delightful. Can it be that you've been waiting for me all this time? My children told me how you prowled the streets night after night, but it was under strict instruction that you were not to be touched. You are mine now. It was a promise I made to our mutual… friend."

"Tell me one thing, ay?" he said, tightening his hold on the stake. "What happened to her?"

Bodhi laughed. "Are you so eager for your torment that you would begin it now? I have such delights for you planned." Her delicate fingers stroked the side of his face, eyes lingering on the veins in his neck. "Very well. I cannot ignore that determined look in your eye, not when I can so easily destroy it with disappointment. Your precious Jayda is _dead_." She smiled when his face fell into a frown. "After my brother ripped her soul from her body, he dumped her into my maze where I hunted her like the animal she is." Bodhi continued to gently stroke his face, occasionally pouting with glee at the torment that shadowed his expression. "When I finally caught her, do you know what she did? At the mention of my fateful encounter with you, she turned into a monster. Does that make you sad? She turned into the monster that she is for you… for the pathetic love she held for you." Bodhi leaned in to whisper in his ear. "And then I put the monster down like a dog!"

Gaelan plunged the stake into her chest and Bodhi screamed, reeling back. The vampires lunged at him to attack but she barked an order to leave him, so they simply restrained him tightly, hissing and growling in his ears. He watched in hopelessness as Bodhi gripped the stake and ripped it out of her breast then dropped it to the ground. It clattered along the cobblestone, leaving bloody splotches.

"That was foolish," she purred. "I commend your efforts but I cannot be defeated so easily." Her hand flashed before him and an iron-like vice gripped his jaw. "I should kill you now," she growled, "but why deny myself the pleasure of torturing you into one of my children? Jayda would like that, don't you think?"

Gaelan just glared at her, heart racing. He thought he should be afraid, but somehow he wasn't. He just felt horribly sad. What other torments could she inflict upon him? She had already played her best card: the news that Jayda was dead.

A blinding light stung his eyes and he twisted away from it. The vampires shrieked and their limbs began burning. He stumbled out of their weakened grasp and slipped into a dark shadow. A loud, familiar scream rang out into the night and then a massive warrior was before him, swinging his mighty sword, slicing the vulnerable vampires to pieces.

"Evil, meet my sword!" the warrior cried. "Sword! Meet! _Evil_!"

Within a matter of moments, the vampires had been vanquished and were retreating in gaseous clouds. Bodhi stumbled away from him, a look of sheer terror in her eyes.

"No… No!" she cried. "Could it be the monster lives?"

"Swords, not words!" he replied, lifting his weapon. Bodhi hissed and vanished into the night.

"Are you all right?" a timid female called out and a figure ran up to the warrior.

"I have not felt this good since I broke the face of the pirate scum," he replied. "But your concern is much appreciated."

Gaelan slipped out of the shadows and instantly recognized Jayda's companions, Minsc and Aerie. They turned to regard him. He just stared, heart twisting painfully. Has she died and they lived? Weren't they supposed to die protecting her? Hadn't that been their vow, their oath—the oath she denied him? He gritted his teeth, jaw still aching from where Bodhi had held it. He couldn't think like that. He hadn't vowed anything to her. He had been too cowardly.

"Are you hurt?" Aerie finally asked.

"Not physically," he replied bitterly. "My thanks for steppin' in."

Minsc bowed his head as if to say 'you're welcome'.

"You're Gaelan Bayle, Jayda's Shadow Thief ally," she continued. "I'm glad we got here in time."

"Ye came in on the ship?" Gaelan assumed and both of them nodded vigorously. "Then… is she really…" He couldn't say the word. "Is she with ye?"

"No," Minsc said sadly, shaking his head. "When the pirates attacked, she and the others went into the sea. We could not find their bodies."

Gaelan's jaw tightened again as though he could contain all of the pain within himself by keeping his mouth sealed shut. He shuffled from foot to foot, limbs tingling with anxiety. Minsc put a heavy hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Fear not, little thief, she is not dead." Minsc smiled. Gaelan looked over to Aerie who smiled as well.

"How do ye know?" he asked.

Minsc balled his other hand into a fist and beat his chest above his heart. "In here, I know she is alive. If she were dead, so would be my heart. Now come, we must get to someplace safe."

"Pardon?" Gaelan said, still trying to come to grips with the idea that Jayda might still be alive.

"There is safety in numbers," Minsc told him, "and I am two or three, at least. Come."

Gaelan followed them back to the Copper Coronet. He had never had much of a conversation with either of them. He barely knew anything about them aside from their names and their roles in Jayda's life. Yet he followed… for hope that she was alive. He followed them just to be closer to her, as if standing near them he could expect her to appear at any moment with a smile on her face.

/

In Jarlaxle's appointed meeting place—an unoccupied building in the darkest part of the city's slums—Jayda met Imoen and Haer'dalis and the mercenary. The dragon eggs had been exchanged and Solaufein dealt with. Jarlaxle smiled.

"Sekolah's Tooth, as promised," he said and handed her the ivory fang. She sighed in relief. It was almost over. Now they had to find a way out of the city.

"The gates of the city are sealed," Imoen wailed. "We've swapped the eggs, but how are we going to get out of here?" She pointed at Jarlaxle. "You promised us a way out, but how are we to leave now?"

"Right. We're at the 'gesticulating helplessly' part, aren't we?" Jarlaxle mumbled thoughtfully. "Visaj, I thought I told you to remind me when we arrived at this point."

A Drow stepped up behind him and bowed his head. "My apologies, commander. An oversight on my part."

"You're forgiven," Jarlaxle replied. "Allow me to introduce my lieutenant, Visaj. Visaj, I am sure you are already familiar with _Veldrin_, yes?"

"Jarlaxle," Jayda warned, anxious to see her friends to safety. "Don't go back on your word." He pursed his lips together and tapped them with his fingertips.

"My word? The gates _are_ sealed," he reminded her. "And I cannot allow you to leave."

"What?" Imoen gasped. "No, you promised. You said you could get us out. You lied to us?"

"Lied?" Jarlaxle echoed, touching his hand to his chest in mock offense. "Now that is rather harsh language. Visaj? Tell me… did I lie to them?"

"You did not, commander."

"I didn't think so." Jarlaxle stuffed his hands in his hands into his pockets. "You two may leave," he said, pointing to Imoen and Haer'dalis, "but Jayda must remain here. There is still something she must do."

"But the dragon eggs are switched," Imoen protested. "Ardulace will die. It's done. What more do you want?"

"Assurance," he replied.

"You—" she started but Jayda held her hand out to silence her.

"It's okay. I made a promise, too, and I'll see it through. I'll meet you when the deed is done." Jayda handed Sekolah's Tooth to Haer'dalis. "Get this to Villynaty and bring Jaheira back to the granitehome. Collect Anomen and my things and wait for me by Adalon's lair. I'll bring the eggs."

"Are you sure this is what you want, my raven?" Haer'dalis asked her.

"Yes. I'll be along." She smiled. "If he betrays me, I'll just turn into the Slayer and leave the hard way."

"That isn't funny," Imoen hissed angrily. Haer'dalis placed a reassuring hand on the pink-haired girl's shoulder.

"She never was very good at making jokes," he reminded her. "Very well. You trust him and I trust you."

They gathered up what they had to take with them and Visaj led them to a secret passage in the wall. Before they could leave, Jayda called out to Haer'dalis.

"Do me a favor," she said. "Tell Prince Villynaty… that I'm learning who I am. He'll know what it means."

The bard nodded and then the room was empty save for her and Jarlaxle. He eyed her with a raised brow.

"Even princes are drawn to you," he mumbled thoughtfully but Jayda shook her head.

"It isn't what you think. Villynaty is a Sahuagin prince and drawn to me only in the way that I am drawn to a well-seasoned steak." She sighed and slumped in a chair. The ritual was hours out and she was forced to play the waiting game.

"I think it's more than that," Jarlaxle said, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest. "Not all of us are blinded by racial gaps."

She snorted, stood, rolled up her sleeve, and showed him the scar. Jarlaxle delicately took hold of her arm and examined it.

"That prince gave me this scar when we sparred on the walkways of his city. It wasn't a love confession, it was a message, one warrior to another."

He gently traced the scar with his fingertips, making her skin tingle. "In the language of a race so absorbed in violence, don't you think that such a mark could be your society's equivalent of roses? A warrior's respect could be the equivalent of love."

Jayda breathed slowly to keep her breath from shaking with the nervous tension flooding her body. His caresses felt so good. She missed Gaelan so much, missed the feel of his body against hers, missed the sound of his voice, and missed his presence. Jarlaxle reminded her so much of him that it scared her. Was it the familiarity in him that attracted her or her own loneliness? Sometimes, Jayda was terrified that she would never see Gaelan again. That Bodhi had found him and killed him or worse. Or would he never forgive her? Or maybe he had gotten over her entirely. That had been her goal when she left him standing on that dock: to make him forget her and return to being the man he was before she walked into his life.

It was all so complicated and there was too much complication in her mind and life to be able to sort through it all. On top of that, there was a handsome rogue reaching out to stroke her cheek. Her eyes started to drift closed but through the blur of her lashes, she could see Gaelan's smirking face.

"So beautiful," Jarlaxle mumbled in perfect common tongue. "What other stories do your scars tell?"

"None that could be confused with love confessions," she told him. "Only ones of survival and hatred."

She went to tug her tunic father down but he pushed her hand away and slipped his hand inside, felt the long, hooked scar on her hip, traced it up her abdomen. Even now, it was painful. It was the only one of her scars that still hurt. She winced and tugged away from him but he caught her and pulled her back. Then he was kissing her, gently at first and then hungrily. She reached up to slap him but he caught her hand.

"You shouldn't waste what little time we have on hollow resistance."

"We have hours..."

"Yes," he murmured, stealing a quick kiss. "Barely enough time… I shall try my best—for a Drow, that is—to be a perfect gentleman," he whispered against her lips and then she felt his mouth pull into a grin. When he kissed her again, she kissed back with equal parts fervor and passion. It was when his hands wrapped around her waist that she snapped out of the rush.

"I can't," she said, pushing herself away from him.

"Can't you?" he murmured, amused, and traced her lips with his thumb. "I felt the desire."

"Yes but… that's because you remind me so much of a rogue I know who stole my heart." She blushed at how silly it sounded. "Not that… that's the only way I think of you. I just can't… separate the two of you in my mind. It wouldn't be fair."

"That level of compassion isn't really a concept Drow are familiar with," he told her. "Playing the role of a rogue you love dearly is one I believe I'd enjoy much more than the alternatives of Drow society."

"I'm sorry, but I'm holding out in hope that I still have his heart… and his forgiveness."

Jarlaxle nodded and released her. "Then I suppose we'll have to find some less entertaining ways to while away the time. I won't stay in case it becomes difficult to respect your wishes." He reached out and handed her a gilded rope. "Take this with you to the temple. When your mission is complete, simply give the end a tug."

"What will happen?" she asked as she took it.

"You'll be rescued, of course," Jarlaxle winked, "by a perfect gentleman." He bowed with a flourish and then disappeared into the shadows.

Jayda exhaled a hot breath and put her hand to her flushed cheeks, whishing she wasn't such a sucker for a charming rogue.

* * *

**A/N: **I fell in love with Jarlaxle the moment I read Homeland about 10 years ago. Especially considering he's the kind of guy who doesn't discriminate against women of different races (and honestly seems to prefer them), I couldn't pass up an opportunity to make a connection. Plus, it fit with the story to have Jarlaxle in a bigger role and as a charming rogue and all that... :3


	37. How to Kill a Matron Mother

**A/N: **It's a bit short, but by the time I reached the climax, I had done run out of things to pad the chapter with. Sometimes, shorter is sweeter? I don't know.

* * *

**How to Kill a Matron Mother**

"Finally," Jaheira said, getting to her feet when she spotted Haer'dalis approaching the Sahuagin camp. "I've been waiting here forever. I would've come after you if the gnomes hadn't sent word that they had come in contact with Jayda as a Drow. You have a lot of explaining to do."

"All in good time. We have a ways to travel yet," Haer'dalis told her. "First things first… may I have the globe?"

Jaheira handed it to him and he took it to Villynaty, who quickly placed his hand atop the orb.

"What news of our mission?" he asked. "What news of Sekolah's chosen?"

Haer'dalis handed him the fang and Villynaty roared in exclamation, holding it up for his people to behold. They raised their arms, hissing and growling. The bard assumed it was the Sahuagin version of cheering.

"But what of Jayda?" Villynaty asked. "Did she not return with you?"

"She is alive, but… busy," he replied. "She sends her regards to your people. She also wanted me to tell you that she is learning who she is."

Villynaty nodded solemnly. "Tell her…" But he said nothing. He just touched his fist to his chest and then pointed to a scar on his cheek. Haer'dalis smiled and released the orb, watching as the Sahuagin packed up their camp and moved on.

"What was that all about?" Jaheira asked and Haer'dalis hooked an arm around her.

"How about I start from the beginning," he said with a smile. "It really is quite an unbelievable tale."

/

Jayda pushed open the doors to the temple and stalked forward. With the ritual already in process, there was no one to chastise her. All of the handmaidens knelt near the Matron and the hall was otherwise empty. Matron Mother Ardulace stood in the back of the temple, waving her arms and chanting before a fiery pit churning with dark, magical energies. In front of her, the three silver eggs glistened. Phaere turned around to see who had entered and smiled when Jayda held up the bloody jeweled dagger. She followed the point of the blade to the bag of eggs Jayda hoisted and her smile grew even wider.

Phaere returned to the ritual as Jayda slowly walked closer to where she was standing. Before she could plunge the dagger in her back, a loud eruption of fire at the pit captured her attention. From the abyss, a massive demon three times the size of the Nabassu she had fought climbed onto their plane. The beast was rippling with flame, spiked tail whipping back and forth. His eyes were bright embers and smoke poured from his nostrils and fangs.

"I have come!" he bellowed in a guttural voice. "You have wrested me from my plane, darkling… Have good reason, or I shall take my price in darkling blood!"

"I beseech you, lord of the nether pits, to aid the Drow cause in the war against our hated surface cousins, to carve their pale flesh!" Ardulace exclaimed, fighting to stand firm with the rush of energy that was a whirlwind around the demon.

"And what matter of tithe would you offer me for such a deed, darkling?" he growled. It was hard to listen to his voice. It was so deep and infused with the burning warble of flame that it hurt the ears. "What manner of payment warrants my aid?"

"These, lord of fiends," and the Matron swept her arm across the eggs. "The eggs of a silver dragon, a self-righteous creature of light, are yours to do with as you please in return for your aid."

"Foolish darkling!" The demon bellowed. "Do you think I would be taken in by such a simplistic deception?"

"Wh-what do you mean, o dark lord?" Ardulace stammered. "These… these are—"

"They are false!" he finished for her and an angry flare of fire rushed out of his mouth followed by the wailing of the handmaidens.. "How dare you call me forth! How dare you tempt me with eggs of hated silver! Perish, little darkling woman, for your deceit!"

The Matron barely had time to scream before the demon smote her. The handmaidens shrieked as they, too, were absorbed in the demon's fury. That was the moment that Jayda thrust the jeweled dagger into Phaere's back. She gasped, eyes wide and glistening with the reflection of the fire.

"Veldrid… Veldrid," she hissed. "What have you done to me?"

A great roar of laughter caused both women to look up at the demon. His burning eyes were staring right at them.

"The Bhaal-child has murdered you, daughter-darkling," he said. "Come now and be devoured."

As Phaere turned to regard her traitor, Jayda ripped the dagger out of her back and drew it across her neck, causing a gurgle of blood to pour down her front. She sought Gaelan's red flower on the woman's body but could not find it. Angered, Jayda kicked Phaere toward the pit.

"Have her, demon," she replied, "and return to your home. There is nothing for you here."

The demon lord laughed and picked Phaere up in his mighty claw. In a bright burst of energy, he sank back into his pit and the temple was hushed in an eerie quiet. That's when she spun around and sprinted out of the temple. Guards came flooding into the chamber and she barely managed to dodge the spear points that came at her. Unraveling the gilded rope, she began tugging on the end, tumbling onto the walkway and spilling into the crowd. An alarm sounded, wailing throughout the streets. The shout of guards coming for her wasn't far.

"Come on…" Jayda muttered, tugging, and then suddenly she ran into darkness.

...

Jarlaxle raised his brows as Jayda stumbled into the quiet room, landing on the floor on her hands and knees.

"Ah, it worked," he mused. She looked up into his face. "I wasn't sure it would. These things have a way of never working out exactly as you plan. Thinking on the fly is an occupational hazard."

Jayda reached up and took the hand he stretched out to her. "I don't think you would've left that up to chance," she said as he helped her to her feet. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and took the rope back.

"Perhaps not," he admitted. "Though my occupation _is_ full of hazards."

"That I do believe." She looked around. "Where are we?"

"A little pocket plane of mine, home of Bregan D'aerthe. You're safe here." He watched her as she examined the place. "The city is in an uproar, alarms are ringing, chaos everywhere. But I promised you a safe exit, did I not?"

"Not just that," she said, giving him a look that stoked his libido. "A rescue by a perfect gentleman."

He grinned, pulled his hat off his head, and bowed with a flourish. When he stood upright, he replaced the hat, and offered her his arm. Much to his pleasure, she took it and allowed him to lead her down the hall and to a splintered wooden door.

"Why did you really help me, Jarlaxle?"

"It would take far too long to explain the workings of House wars," he said, idly tapping his fingertips together. "Know that your role in these affairs was both profitable and entertaining, and do I hope that one day we meet again, beautiful lady."

The way she smiled, he couldn't resist but to sneak one last kiss. The way her eyes flashed angrily but her cheeks flushed with desire delighted him.

"You promised to be a gentleman," she said and he shrugged.

"For a Drow," he said, "I was."

He studied her, contemplating returning her precious, lost item. Changing his mind, he reached across her and opened the door, motioning to the darkness beyond. She walked three paces and looked back. And then she was gone. He closed the door and pulled the red flower out of his vest pocket. Phaere had been too forward to steal it, especially when it looked so lovely in Jayda's red hair. He wondered why he hadn't felt like returning it. It had clearly been very important to her, a token from her rogue lover, no doubt. And so it was destined to change hands, from one rogue to another.

Jarlaxle brought the flower to his nose and inhaled. It still held its lovely scent. He returned it to the pocket and gently patted the vest, unable to stop smiling.

/

Jayda walked out of a shadow and stood before the great mouth of Adalon's cave.

"Jayda!" Imoen gasped, and she was instantly rushed by her companions. Her sister pulled her into a tight hug, rocking her back and forth until Jayda wriggled free.

"I'm glad you're all okay," she said, noticing both Jaheira and Anomen were in good health. Haer'dalis and Imoen had been returned to their normal forms.

"I would like to say the same, but the shock of seeing you as a Drow is almost too much for words," the druid murmured.

Jayda only smirked and relayed the good news of their success to Golander. Then, the six of them descended into the cavern together. Adalon was furiously beating her wings when they entered, roaring and breathing ice against the walls.

"You return!" she gasped in joy. "I sense my beautiful eggs! You have brought them back to me!" She screeched again and growled affectionately as Jayda gently withdrew the eggs from the bag and laid them before the mighty silver. Adalon gently nuzzled the glistening shells and then lifted her head proudly. "You have done for me what no mere mortal could have done. I thank you, Jayda. All of you, thank you."

"No problem," Imoen said with a wink and one thumb up.

"Your grace," Haer'dalis murmured and bowed.

"It was an honor, my lady," Jayda said. She looked down at her hands and felt the magic of the illusion fading away.

"And what can I give you in return? You may have any item you choose from my horde."

"Only to return to the surface," she replied. "That is all I want."

"Then it shall be done, and accompanied with a most precious gift," Adalon declared. "The silver sword upon your back is a rare and special thing, but it is incomplete. Take this hilt and make it whole again. You will find no blade sharper or more deadly." And as though she had conjured it with pure will—and Jayda realized she might have—the hilt appeared before her and dropped right into Jayda's hands. "I have seen too much of this evil to continue guarding a peace that does not exist." She scooped her eggs into her bosom and spread her wings wide. "Come, my friends. Let us go to the surface together!"

Golander Blackrock was waving, holding desperately to his hat as Adalon beat her wings, filling the room with a fierce wind. Then, they were sucked into a whirlwind of light and transported to a sloping tunnel. All around them, the sounds of battle filled the air. Adalon screamed and razed the Drow horde with a flash wintery breath. Elves and Drow alike fled at the sight of her, all but Jayda and her friends.

"Farewell, daughter of Bhaal," Adalon said, and then she roared again, beating her wings. She lifted herself off of the stone and soared up through the tunnel, lighting the darkness with her silvery beauty.

Jayda and her companions scrambled up the slippery slope after her, squinting against the bright light. Jayda winced, clawing at the earth, sprinting for the surface. Memories of fleeing Irenicus' dungeon flooded her mind. Tears fell down her cheeks, her heart thumped so hard that it might burst, and then the warmth was shining on her face. She lifted her head to the sky and silently cried as she watched the beautiful Adalon circling overhead and then flapping away to freedom.


	38. The Sorrow of the Elves

**Act 6**

**The Sorrow of the Elves**

No sooner had Adalon flown away than Jayda and her companions found themselves surrounded by elven warriors. Their bright emerald armor gleamed in the light while their swords and bows trained on them like they were still disguised as Drow. One warrior shouted at her in elvish but she could only catch bits and pieces of the tongue.

"He wants to know why we are here and if we align ourselves with our dark kin below," Jaheira explained.

"Tell him," Jayda said and listened to her friend's exotic voice speak elvish. She and the warrior barked at one another back and forth until they were muscled away from the tunnel and toward the woods. "What did you say?"

"The truth," she spat. "It seems Irenicus has spoiled elven trust. We are being taken to their camp."

The camp was a short walk away, though being shoved along with swords and suspicion made the trek that much more unbearable. They were met at the entrance by an elf in glittering armor with a beautiful woodland cloak strapped across his shoulder. His long, blond hair looked like spun gold. He lifted his pointed chin as they were pushed before him. He said something in elvish. Even though she couldn't understand what was being said, it had been spoken so smugly that she hoped he wouldn't repeat it.

Jaheira muttered something in their tongue and the regal elf sniffed.

"Welcome," he said in the common tongue. "I am General Sovalidaas. I have led my people through countless wars and battles. I will have you know I do not trust you. I have no reason to trust you. I do not feel that I _have_ to trust you. Be you in league with the dark ones or not, in league with the mage or not, you may yet prove our enemy."

"Nice," Jayda said bitterly. "Now that you got that off your chest, feel up to telling me just what in the Nine Hells this is all about?"

The General smiled at her. "No," he said. "I merely came to look at you. You arrived from the depths and I wished to see if the darkness was in your eyes. I am undecided. Elhan will see you when he returns from the field. Until then, you will be comfortably detained." He nodded to those behind him. "Collect their effects and take them to the holding cells."

The warriors relieved them of their weapons, patting them down for the last boot knife, and then searched their bags for anything that could be considered dangerous before they were returned. Then, they were tossed into a large hut with bars for a door.

The camp itself was huge, full of huts similar to the one they were held in that looked like they were made from leaves. Elven warriors bustled to and fro carrying weapons, sharpening blades, eating, talking, hammering out dents, discussing strategies, reporting to their superiors, and praying. By their armor, Jayda could tell they had been beset by the Drow for quite some time, but their faces showed no hint of fatigue. They were perfect and beautiful.

"This is ridiculous," Anomen muttered, punching the wall. His armored fist had no effect on the fragile-looking cage. "They can't hold us. We're in league with no one. They should just send us on our way. We're five people! What can we do against their army?"

"We're five people who can do a lot," Imoen said with a grin.

"Yes, wildflower, but they don't know that," Haer'dalis reminded her.

"Oh yeah," she mumbled.

"They're afraid," Jaheira interjected. "They wouldn't tell me what has happened but there is something very wrong here."

"We know what," Imoen said. "The dark elves have attacked."

"It's more than that," the druid told her.

"Like what?" Anomen snapped.

"Like Irenicus," Jayda replied and they all looked at her. "I think I finally am starting to understand what this is about." She sank to the ground, back against the wall, and dug into her pack for the journal she never finished reading. "I think this is about revenge," she explained. "I don't think it had anything to do with me or with Imoen or Athkatla or the Drow… We were all just means to an end. This end."

"What end?" Imoen asked.

"I've been reading his journals—the ones not lost at sea—and he talks about a curse that was placed upon him—I think by his very own people. He says, 'Bodhi endured the curse much better than I do now,' but she was more focused _and_ undead, even though it didn't counteract the 'death sentence', as he calls it. 'She had embraced her mortality, excited by the urgency of it, but now she is confused.' They were made mortal."

"What were they before?" Anomen asked.

"I think they were elves."

"Elves?" Jaheira balked. "What makes you think that?"

"He said so," Jayda replied, "and he spoke of Suldanessellar, too. And guess where we are."

"Near Suldanessallar," Jaheira mumbled.

"Mhm." Jayda frowned and chewed on one of her nails. "He said Imoen's soul had restored Bodhi, hinting that it had returned her emotions, but the vampirism warped her motives, leaving only her carnal nature behind, 'even as the elf within despises the creature she has become.' Then he goes on to talk about how he is no longer capable of emotions except in violent outbursts and how his ability to feel was taken from him. 'And I am left with the threadbare heart of a human…' He's out for revenge."

"Imoen's soul restored Bodhi, yours restored him," Jaheira surmised, "and now he is out to get the people who cursed him. The elves…" she muttered in disbelief. "He was once one of them. Unbelievable."

"Unbelievable that he was an elf or that the elves made him into a monster?" Imoen grumbled.

"Irenicus could only have been a monster for the elves to do what they did," Jaheira argued.

"I'm sure I believe that," Anomen spat, "seeing as how being travelers turned us into prisoners."

"That's different!" the druid exclaimed but Jayda waved her hands.

"That's enough!" she exclaimed. "I don't like being here anymore than you do. I don't like this situation and I certainly don't like the attitude we've been shown. But there is nothing we can do now. We just have to wait…"

The others quietly sat down and Jayda opened up the journal to continue reading.

/

They waited until long after nightfall for Elhan to return to camp. The torches had been burning for hours when the guards finally came for them. They were led to a large tent made of green silk where the armored leader was speaking with a few of his generals, Sovalidaas included. The blond-haired one shot a glare in their direction and Jayda blew him a kiss out of spite. He scoffed and, when Elhan had finished addressing him and his fellows, they departed.

"Well," the male said, turning to face them as he crossed his arms behind his back. "I thank you for coming. I am Elhan."

"Like we had a choice," Imoen mumbled.

"You didn't," Elhan calmly agreed. "You still don't. Realizing that will make things easier. I shall keep this brief, as I have little time to waste. A few questions answered are all I need from you. I will ask some things of you, and you will speak what you know. My sages will detect any falsehood." He motioned to the two robed grandfathers next to him. "Is that clear?" When no objection came, he said, "Good. Let us begin with something simple and direct. You emerged from the home of the Drow. Were you fleeing or are you in league with them?"

"We left them in more chaos than they have left you, and we killed as many as we could," Jayda replied. "We never wanted to be there in the first place and left when we had the chance."

Just as Elhan looked to be getting angry over such a convoluted answer to a simple question, the old men on his right spoke.

"Truth," the first sage said.

"I concur. Truth," the second murmured.

"A truth," Elhan murmured in surprise. "A good start. You are currently not an ally of the Drow. A name, then, that you may know something of. Irenicus. Do you know of him?"

"Know him?" Anomen balked. "He is the very reason we are here, or anywhere for that matter."

"We battled our way through the cruel terrors of the Underdark seeking this Irenicus and his black heart," Haer'dalis told them.

"Absolute truth," said the first sage.

"No doubt at all, on both answers," agreed the second.

Elhan sighed in relief. "That is reassuring. Whatever manner of creature you are, we are on the same side in this instance at least. I'm pleased to know it."

"Oh, I am _so_ glad you're happy," Jayda said. "That's exactly why I bothered to come all this way: your happiness."

Elhan narrowed his gaze on her as Imoen snickered. Jayda wasn't quite sure what had gotten into her. She was angry, exhausted, and once again detained by people whose problems were not her own. She was tired of being treated like a suspect, like her mission was as important as the dust on their feet. She had come too far and had been hassled by too many races demanding something from her. The elves would demand something or she would die right then and there from shock.

"You are certainly less of a threat than I first imagined," Elhan continued, "though certainly less pleasant than could be hoped for. Though you are not welcome among us, I will apprise you of the situation so that you will understand what has happened here today. In another time, you might have been received warmly, but Irenicus has triggered the strongest of emotions where e'er he has tread." Elhan began pacing before them, arms still behind his back in militaristic form. "Irenicus has stepped beyond all bounds of decency and our very city is under the weight of his thumb. Suldanessellar is simply gone."

"Ah, you called it," Imoen said, punching Jayda playfully in the arm.

"This is not something to laugh over," Elhan said, raising his voice for the first time since they had met him.

"How can the city have vanished?" Jaheira asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. "His powers can't have grown that much."

"It has only been concealed," Elhan explained, "but we cannot penetrate the magics that have hidden it. We are forced to remain here, pestered by Drow while supplies falter."

"Drow that were incited by Irenicus and the bargains he made in the Underdark," Jayda told him. The sages spoke again.

"Truth."

"Yes, she knows much of this."

Jayda bit her lip to keep from lashing out at them. Elhan peered intently at her.

"It would seem your travels have given you quite a bit of insight into the plans Irenicus has made," he mumbled.

"I can put the pieces of a puzzle together like anyone else," she replied. "So how did he manage to take the city from you? Wait, let me guess: you were drawn out of it to protect the temple between the surface and the Underdark." His expression told her that she was right. "And now that temple lacks a guardian."

"What?"

"Adalon was betrayed and now she has abandoned her post. But fear not, great Elhan, the attacks should subside. I killed the Matron allied with Irenicus and responsible for this war."

"Truth," said a sage.

"Truth," agreed the other.

"Will you call off your sages? We've proved trustworthy, haven't we?"

But Elhan wasn't listening. He was thinking, it was clear on his face with the way his delicate brows knit together and the wrinkles formed around his almond eyes. He made two 'hm' noises before he looked at her instead of through her.

"You obviously bear no love for Irenicus, making you the enemy of our enemy. Classically speaking, this might make you our friend. And even if you are not, you cannot reach Irenicus without helping us. He is untouchable, save for one possibility."

"And what is that?" Jaheira wanted to know.

"Within the temple was an artifact of great power: the Rhynn Lanthorn. It is an ancient lantern, etched with the oldest of runes. It is attuned to the elven nation and no magic can bar its return to elven lands. We could simply walk to Suldanessellar if we had possession of it."

"But you don't," Imoen concluded and Elhan shook his head. "Fig'ers."

"Someone stole the relic when the temple fell to the Drow," Elhan explained. "Obviously it was a servant of Irenicus capitalizing on the chaos of the battle. We have not been able to determine where the thief went, despite the best efforts of our sages, leading us to believe that the Lanthorn is no longer in elven territory."

Jayda screamed in frustration, throwing her hands into the air. "Why!" she bellowed. "Why is it that you are all so incompetent? Can you hold on to nothing sacred? Can you solve none of your own problems? How many of the races would wither and die if people like us—" she jerked her arm to indicate her friends "—didn't come along to save you? Humans, mages, Sahuagin, Drow, _elves_! Your problems are not my problems! I came to reclaim my _soul_ and yet every one of you views your problem as the end all, be all of Faerun! Have I asked you for your help?" Jayda whirled to face her friends. "Did I ask any of them for help? No, it was volunteered for an exchange of services!" She spun back to Elhan. "I'm tired of serving while the one thing I mean to accomplish remains undone! This is _your_ problem, elf! You fix it!"

"Jayda, your eyes—" Imoen began, but Jayda waved her arm to dismiss the comment.

"If you were so easily undone by Irenicus, perhaps you deserve your fate," Jayda hissed. Elhan glared down at her but there was sympathy in his eyes as well. Sympathy and pity, and that made her hate him all the more.

"Do you deserve yours?" he asked her gently. "It seems you have been undone by him as well, child."

Jayda's jaw clenched and she squeezed her fists so tightly that she might have drawn blood had she not been wearing gloves. Even though he spoke truth, she didn't back down. Neither did he.

"I cannot let you into the city, stranger, because it is not within my power to do so. I only speak the truth. If we were capable of returning to Suldanessellar, we would be storming our enemies even now. And if we could find the Lanthorn, I would be out there myself looking for it. These are facts I do not approve of and it shames me even more to admit it, especially to outsiders. But they are facts, and we need your help."

Jayda squared off with him for a moment longer and then scoffed, turned, and walked several paces away. Taking deep breaths helped calm her down, but the adrenaline was still pumping. It was a never-ending, hopeless spiral of servitude. She would be jumping through hoops until the end of time, and those hoops would always be ablaze with fire. She could join Aerie's circus with the tricks she could perform.

But no matter how bitter it made her, there was only one way forward. Jayda lifted her head and sighed.

"It must be Bodhi," she said. "Only she would have been trusted with such a thing. Irenicus' sister." She turned to the elves again. "I know her stomping grounds well. She'll have returned to Amn, to Athkatla."

"Truth—"

"Stop it already!" Jayda bellowed. Elhan gently motioned his sages to be silent. They bowed their heads and backed away, though they did not leave.

"Bodhi? You know more of this than we do," Elhan confessed.

"Then how about you tell me what you _do_ know."

"I cannot say more than I have," he replied and folded his hands behind his back once more. "As it stands, I am in the same situation you are, and seemingly less informed about our enemy. The attack came without warning, born in the mind of a human we did not know. This was not in the realm of possibility, and it remains as such. He has dealt with Drow, defiled our temple, and violated our city. He is all that elves are not."

"Oh, how wrong and how right you are, fair friends," Haer'dalis mumbled with a small smile.

"Explain," Elhan demanded.

"You won't like it and I can't prove it," Jayda said, "so we'll keep it to ourselves for now."

"If there is something you know that could help us, you must tell me."

"It won't help you now," Jayda replied, "and now is all that matters. You need me to find the Lanthorn. If it's where I think it is, I'm going to need help."

"We cannot march on human territory," Elhan protested, shaking his head. "As great as our problems are, they would only get worse if we appeared to be sending agents against humans."

Jayda smiled wryly to keep from screaming again. "Ah, another surprise."

"Do not ridicule me," Elhan said. "I would help you if I could. Believe me. But I simply cannot, not in this way. What else could I do to aid you?"

"Supplies," Anomen immediately piped up. "A safe haven to rest and a hot meal, a place to sharpen our weapons and bang the dents out of our armor."

"Done," Elhan said. "Anything else?"

"Holy Water and stakes come to mind," Imoen chirped, placing her hands on her hips. Elhan wore a confused expression but he consented with a nod none-the-less. When no more requests were made, he departed and they were left in momentary peace.

"That was quite the outburst," Jaheira chided her, but there was nothing harsh about her tone.

"The elves and Drow are extremes of one another," Jayda replied, annoyed. "To the Nine Hells with both of them."

"You're half elf yourself," Imoen reminded her.

"Yes, and Solaufein was full Drow and still understood that his people suck." She buried her face in her hands and rubbed at the tension beneath her brow and cheeks. "So close. Always so close, and yet leagues away."

Anomen reached out and gently hugged her, much to her surprise. "No one is giving up," he promised her. "We'll never get any closer to our goal if we don't continue forward."

"I feel like we never get any closer no matter how far we travel," she whispered, resting her head on his armored shoulder.

"Yes," he agreed, "but we really won't if we stand still."

Jayda sighed, her shoulders slumping as she gave in to his embrace. His broad arms held her gently and it was the first time she had realized just how much bigger than her he was. She almost felt small in his arms, or maybe it was just the overwhelming odds they were up against.

/

Their armor and weapons had been taken to the smiths and a hot meal brought to a campsite picked just for them. They ate mostly in silence until Imoen passed out and disturbed the piece with gentle snoring. Jaheira excused herself to walk among the forests. Too long underground had stifled the druid in her and she needed the wilds of the woods to soothe her spirit. Anomen was the next to fall asleep, leaving only Haer'dalis and Jayda to muse at the quiet sky and how Imoen could snore even louder than the knight.

"You look troubled," Jayda mumbled. He snapped his head up from the fire to look at her.

"Ah, I apologize, my raven. I am merely lost in thought."

"Is everything okay?"

"I do not know. I have felt… quite unlike myself recently."

"I can see that. You haven't asked me a question about my past in quite some time," she joked. He forced himself to smile but knew by her expression that she could tell it was disingenuous.

"This sparrow sees how you suffer day by day and does not wish to add to that burden. And perhaps by watching you, I have learned more than words could describe."

"You don't burden me. You should never think that."

"Ah, what I think," he hissed in amusement then turned his mischievous gaze on her. "Long have I watched you and fought at your side, and regardless of the direction of your efforts, excellence is what you achieve. 'Tis astounding, my dear raven, that everyone you meet does not marvel at the wondrous being you most assuredly are. While you most certainly have sacrificed much to be here, strife has brought you strength."

"That's flattery…" Jayda mumbled, embarrassment evident in her cheeks.

"It is flattery mixed with truth," he corrected her, crawling closer. "Why, my raven, do you inspire me to flatter you, and yet whenever I aim to I can only speak truths?"

"You're being an actor again—"

"Cruel and beautiful raven, I have not been an actor in an age, it feels. And yet for you," he mumbled, reaching out to touch her, "and yet… even for me… an actor I must remain." He smiled and dropped his hand to his side, sitting back on his knees. "I won't apologize for the things that I have said or done, but I beg your forgiveness if I have added to your burden."

He stared at her for a long time waiting for the imminent rejection, waiting for her to tell him she could never return his feelings. Without saying it, he had made it clear how he felt about her. Haer'dalis had traveled the planes, loved many women, fought many battles, and played many roles. But he had never before knelt helplessly before something he desperately wanted and could never have. And how he wanted her, to hold her and make love to her beneath the glistening stretch of stars.

But he could not even touch her. He could not will his arm to extend so that his fingers could caress her cheek. He felt himself growing jealous that Anomen could hug her—Anomen, the knight who vowed to love her and was rejected, had accepted his feelings and hers and moved on. Anomen, the noble, self-righteous, virgin knight could hug her while Haer'dalis, the charming, talented, worldly, fearless bard could not even hold her hand.

And it wasn't her who stopped him. He had stopped himself. He knew that even if she could be swayed into his arms—and that was another challenge he dared not consider—that even if he could love her long into the night with only the stars to bear witness, it would not be enough. He was a wayfarer, always off to different lands and on to different adventures. He could be happy with her for a time—and in this moment, he felt as though he could be happy forever—but it wouldn't last. It never did. And though it saddened him, he celebrated the cycle of life and death, gain and loss, love and hatred. He celebrated the ending of one thing for the beginning of another. That was who he was, who he chose to be—a Doomguard. But she was not a Doomguard. She was a Bhaalspawn.

After what she had been through, he could never inflict more hardship upon her. Should she ever come to love him, he would be torn in twine to leave her, and if he rooted himself to one place forever, his love would become resentment. He could never allow himself to resent this woman before him. He loved her far too much for that. Instead, he would sing her song to all the planes and in literature would right the wrongs that reality could never fix. That would be the expression of his love for her.

Imoen snorted loudly, pulling both of them out of their thoughts.

"Only she would sleep so soundly in such turmoil. The night before we confronted Sarevok, she nearly woke the castle with her snoring, and I had to kick her to wake her."

"This sparrow is a bit saddened that he was not there to experience it firsthand at your side."

Jayda gave him a small smile. "Things like this happen to me all the time. Stick around and see for yourself."

He took a deep breath. It was as if she was giving him permission to stay with her, even after all the things he had said to spoil their friendship. He felt relieved and hadn't even realized he had desperately needed that permission. He was just a sparrow fluttering through the Prime—a plane between planes. He had bought his passage in her party with the promise to write her story, but it had been an excuse and she knew it. What right did he have to follow after her and share in her destiny? But now, she had given him permission.

"You do not burden me," Jayda said again and Haer'dalis nearly kissed her then and there, but his body would not move.

"And what does, my raven?"

She sighed. "That I am unable to find an end to all of this nonsense. Is there ever a future that does not include danger and death and hardships? If it were my choice, that would be something different, but I have been denied any right to choose."

"Your father's gift of life may or may not have destined you for any path in particular, but it does seem to have barred some from you, aye?"

She smiled, and he didn't know why. His own words had saddened him beyond belief. Why would she smile like that? _How_ could she smile?

"I have despised Bhaal since the moment I learned he was my father. And yet... recently, I have found myself hating him more than ever before." She smiled again, even laughed. "And in spite of that, I have learned more about myself now than I did when I first read Gorion's letter explaining who and what I was. My father left a score of children, scarred and marked and destined for his legacy. That was what I saw, but not what I should have seen."

"And what should you have seen, my raven?"

"My father was a survivor… and so am I. Becoming less of one only defeats me, but staying strong and alive… does not make me more like him."

Now he understood why she was smiling. He understood the joyous tear drops that dripped out of her gray eyes. Haer'dalis found the will to reach over and brush them off of her cheeks. He found the will to smile with her. It was as though she had finally confirmed her right to exist in this world. And then she was crying and he was falling before her, knees to either side as he scooped her into his arms and held her against his chest. She grabbed his tunic and clutched him as she sobbed for all that had been lost and for all that she had gained.

"I'm not like him," she wailed in relief, rejoicing, and his shoulder muffled the sound. Since Gorion had died, Haer'dalis knew it was the first time she had believed that she was not like Sarevok, not like Irenicus, not like Bhaal. "I'm not like him!"

Haer'dalis wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to the top of her head, trapping her within a bear-tight hug. He felt hot tears in his own eyes and almost fought their release. Then he was crying with her, rocking back and forth, biting back the pain whenever she clawed at his arms or back or sides. Eventually, her anger subsided and there was only the shaking of her sobs to wrestle against.

"I lost the flower," she whispered. "I lost his flower…"

"'Tis only a flower," Haer'dalis whispered back. "I am sure he will give you another when you meet again."

And if he didn't, Haer'dalis would. If Gaelan had moved on and could no longer find room in his heart for Jayda, Haer'dalis would whisk her away to the planes, to great adventures and wondrous lands, history be damned.


	39. Return to Amn

**A/N: **I sat on the next couple of chapters for awhile. It took me a bit to get some of the scenes where I liked them. I have been thinking of the reunion for so long that I wound up not liking a lot of what I wrote. I'm mostly pleased with what turned out. I hesitated posting only because I'm still working on the confrontation of Bodhi and wasn't sure if there was anything I'd like to change later. But I've waited long enough and I'm pretty sure it's as solid as it's going to be.

* * *

**Return to Amn**

It took just over a week for Jayda and her friends to return to Athkatla. The weather had been poor and the terrain rough, but they managed to make excellent time, mostly due to Jayda's pushing them just a bit farther every day. The moment the city came into sights, she raced toward it. Night had already fallen by the time they limped up to the city gates.

"We're back," she whispered as the guardsman cranked the chain and raised the portcullis. She hurried through the streets, even as a light rain began to fall.

"Where are you going?" Imoen asked, yanking her hook over her pink head. "Whatcha in such a hurry for?"

They rounded the corner toward the darker parts of the city, heading for the Slums. That's when they heard the struggling and saw two feet kicking as the person they belonged to was dragged down an alley. Jayda drew her sword and rushed around the corner. Even in the shadows, the vampires were unmistakable.

"Hey!" Jayda shouted and the two fiends looked up in surprise. When they saw her, their eyes went wide and they hissed. "Let him go."

They released the sobbing man who quickly crawled toward them. Haer'dalis and Anomen helped him to his feet while Jayda stomped down the alley. The vampires growled and backed away, hands held up defensively.

"Tell your mistress I'm coming for her," Jayda said. "Tell her!" The vampires fled into the night. Jayda slipped her sword back into her belt and turned to face her companions. "She's back."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Anomen asked. "Warning her may give her time to flee."

"Or prepare," Jaheira agreed.

"She'll know I'm here even if I try to hide it. And she won't flee. She believes she cannot be defeated. She believes this city belongs to her. She'll fight me, and I want her to bring all of her vampires together to try."

"You want that?" Imoen balked.

"I want that, yes. So that I can kill every single one of them before I end her existence for good."

/

One minute Gaelan was drinking, the next the table was shaking and Minsc's chair was falling backward as the ranger leapt to his feet.

"Jaheira!" he bellowed. Gaelan looked up through the crowd toward the far side.

"Minsc?" a woman with a thick accent exclaimed. "Minsc! Is that you? Minsc! You're alive!"

"Jaheira!" Minsc exclaimed again and Aerie jumped up.

"Jaheira?" she cried. "Oh my, Jaheira! A-and Imoen and Haer'dalis!"

_Imoen?_ Gaelan immediately stood up. Entering the tavern was Jaheira, the druid, Haer'dalis, the actor, and a short girl with pink hair. Minsc bumbled past him, picked Jaheira up into a bear hug, and spun her around.

"Boo's heart is filled with joy and mine is, too!" he shouted. "We thought you were dead!"

"We were worried some similar ill fate had befallen you as well," Haer'dalis said, clapping the ranger on the shoulder as he sat the druid back on her feet.

"J-Jaheira?" Aerie stammered bashfully. "I'm so glad you're all right."

"Aerie, come here," the druid snapped, pulling the Avariel into a warm hug. "Thank Silvanus you're all right."

"Wait, Jayda," Minsc said, frowning into the crowd. "She is not with you. Where is she?"

"Jayda? A-and Anomen!" Aerie gasped. "Are… are they… Did they not…?"

Gaelan was fairly sure his heart stopped in suspense. And then Jaheira was laughing.

"They're both fine, alive and well and here in the city," she replied. Gaelan's heart began beating again, beating so hard that it was hammering in his chest. "Anomen reported to the Order and Jayda said there was someone she had to go see."

Gaelan rushed toward the door but Haer'dalis intercepted him. He frowned, wondering why he was being stopped, and by the actor of all people.

"The thing I wanted to know from you is evident in your eyes," the bard said. "I am happy for her. Now there is something I think you should know. The flower you gave her… she carried it with her up until the end and held it as though it were her lifeline. And she cried when it was taken from her."

"Where is she?" Gaelan snapped, too anxious for manners.

"I believe she's gone looking for you."

"Who's that?" the pink-haired girl asked, pointing at him as he ran by.

"That would be the infamous Gaelan Bayle," Haer'dalis replied.

"Aww," the girl whined in disappointment. "I was just about to call dibs."

"And leave me without a dance partner?" the bard asked in mock offense.

"Well if dancing's involved…"

And then Gaelan couldn't hear anymore. He was out of the tavern and racing through the Slums. The rain had picked up, but he didn't notice. She was alive. She was looking for him. The first place she would go would be his house. Gaelan took a deep breath as he slowed and turned onto the alley where he lived.

There she was, her red hair bouncing around her shoulders, brow knit together in concern. She was banging on his door, wet from the rain.

"Gaelan!" she exclaimed. "Gaelan! Open up. Please. Gaelan?" She banged some more. "Arledrian! Gaelan!"

He wanted to run over to her, gather into his arms, and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. He wanted to throw her against his door and make love to her. He wanted to smother her with a hug. He wanted to shout out the words he should've said months ago. But he just stared in disbelief that she was really there, watched her bang on his door in desperation. And then he grinned, almost chuckled, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Coo! I don't think anyone's home," he hollered. She jumped in surprise and whirled around to face him. He shrugged. "Call it a hunch."

"You're alive," she murmured.

"Ye thought otherwise?"

"Bodhi," she began. "She said—"

"She lies," he told her. "She told me ye were dead." He watched her faces go two shades paler.

"She found you…"

"Did ye think I'm that easy to kill?" he asked playfully, enjoying her worried expression. "What kind of handler would I be?"

"You're not my handler anymore."

"True." He shrugged. "Given the facts, then, I see meself as a bit in luck, seein' as how Bodhi's return brought ye back as well. Ye'll remember ye said differently. So what brings ye here? As ye said, I'm not ye handler anymore."

"I… I need to tell you… so many things."

Gaelan, without losing his cool, stopped smiling and gave a brusque nod. "I have somethin' I be needin' to say as well."

He walked toward her and the tension between them seemed to swell near to bursting. He had told himself that if he saw her again then he would say the words he should've said before she left. But when he saw her, all of the wrong suddenly felt right. He felt like himself again. He felt like he had time, like he could keep her from disappearing. He wanted to play with her, tease her just a bit for calling him an affair. He hadn't had any affairs that had come looking for him in such desperation, banging on his door in the middle of the night and the rain.

Gaelan smirked at her when he came close enough to touch her. She stood so still but he saw the energy in her eyes. He nearly grabbed her and threw her against the wall, kissed her until her lips were swollen, but he saw the circles around her eyes, the chill of her complexion. She looked like death warmed over, but still more beautiful than she had any right to be, so he just unlocked his door and let her inside.

...

Jayda felt the past come rushing back. Even though it hadn't even been half a year since she last saw Gaelan, it seemed like she had sailed to Brynnlaw a lifetime ago. Yet here she stood in his home and not a thing had changed. When he closed the door and brushed by her on his way to his desk, she almost grabbed him. But it had been long enough and she had been cruel enough that she couldn't let her lust attack him.

She watched him lean against his desk, fold his arms over his chest, and tilt his head slightly as he stared at her. He looked so incredibly attractive that it made her mouth feel dry. His dark eyes looked at her so intently, she felt like she was standing there naked. The way his wet shirt clung to his skin stirred a warm fire in her belly that went straight down to her inner thighs. It was distracting, and she was already having a hard time finding the words she needed to explain herself.

How could she tell him everything she needed to say? How could she explain that her soul had been ripped out of her and she was liable to become a monster at any moment of every day but that she hadn't stopped thinking about him since the day she left him on that dock and that even back then she had been lying through her teeth when she told him he was just an affair? She opened her mouth several times to make the attempt but always wound up closing it again.

"Ye eyes are more gold than gray now," he mumbled thoughtfully.

"You were right," she finally blurted. "How can anyone believe that a woman indulging in a one-night stand could cry in front of her lover?" She took a deep breath. "But I used you, Gaelan. You were my comfort, my relief, my release, my pleasure, my assurance… and all I did was take your smile from you."

"Ye took nothin' I didn't give an' I gave nothin' I didn't likewise take," he said seriously.

Jayda chewed on her lower lip for a moment, stuck in an endless whirlwind of trying to tell him how she felt and not being able to find the words. He had always understood her silence and could always read the meaning between her words, but ever since that day on the dock, she knew he had been waiting to hear the truth from her.

"Damn it all to Bhaal," she said, frustrated. "Gaelan, I'm a Bhaalspawn. I'm a plague. Everyone that gets close to me winds up suffering or dead. I have no idea if I will ever live a normal life, if people will stop coming after me for my power—"

"I know," he calmly interrupted her.

"My soul was stolen," she told him. "Irenicus ripped it out of me. I am… hollow and cold, and I thought it was okay. I thought at least I was free of my curse. I could come back, I could do like you said, I could… I could quit being a Bhaalspawn. But I can't. Irenicus is doing terrible things with my soul. I have to get it back. It's my burden to bear. It will… always be my burden to bear."

"I know…" he said quietly, standing very still. She couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. His face was perfectly unreadable.

"I…" Her voice trembled as she prepared to tell him what she was afraid to tell him. "I have one piece of Bhaal left in me. It made me… transform into something terrible. Because I'm missing my soul, Bhaal's survival mechanism is triggered and I don't know when it will happen next. I can't stay here. I have to kill Bodhi and then march to Suldanessellar and confront Irenicus. I don't know what will happen—if I'll even be strong enough to face him. But I have to go."

She waited for him to say something but he just stared at her. She wanted to tell him she loved him, that she wanted to be with him. But she couldn't. It wasn't fair to him. Just like she had wanted to stay with him instead of leave Amn, she couldn't. She had to sail to Brynnlaw and rescue Imoen. And now, she had to save the elves and herself. She could commit to nothing but that cause.

"I came because Bodhi threatened you, but I… wanted to tell you that I was going to come back, that I lied back then. You were right—I pushed you away to try to save you. I wonder… if you can forgive me."

"For what?"

"For the cruel things I said."

His lips pulled into half a smile. "I knew what ye meant, and what ye hoped to avoid sayin'. They be the same things I didn't say, for different reasons. There's nothin' to forgive, but if ye need it, then yeah. I forgive ye."

"Thank you."

"I've been waitin' quite some time for ye to come back through that door, an' regret isn't much my style yet I've been doin' nothin' but. I know who ye are, I know what ye sufferin', an' I can see ye tryin' to make more excuses to leave again, but I've had enough of that."

"They aren't excuses, Gaelan, I have to go."

"I heard ye." He pushed off of his desk. "Ye sayin' ye can't stay 'cause ye have to go, but what ye really mean is ye can't be with me 'cause ye can't stay. So what if I go with ye?"

"No," she said, feeling the blood drain out of her face. "It's too dangerous—"

"An' I can't take care of meself?" he snapped, slowly walking toward her. "What is it, Jayda? Ye don't want me to with ye?"

"That's not it—"

"I let ye talk me out of it once, but now I'll tell ye what's in _my_ head. I've been thinkin' of ye since ye left, regrettin' not stoppin' ye or not goin' with ye. I won't make the same mistake twice. I never have, and I won't start now. I want to be with ye, and if that means leavin' Amn to confront Irenicus, so be it. I leave Athkatla."

"But everything you have here—"

"Somehow it'n as important to me as you are," he said seriously. "I want you. An' ye gonna have to be damn more convincin' than last time to make me believe ye don't want me, too."

The words barely left his mouth before she was upon him, her lips pressed against his, and he was wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight against him. And then she had pulled away and was tugging his shirt from his neck, fingers gliding over his skin to make sure Bodhi had not hurt him in any way.

"If ye thought I'd been turned, it might've been better to check before ye started kissin' me, ay?"

"I'm just relieved you're okay. I was scared you were… that she had… I tried to hurry back, but one thing after another happened, and I…"

"I'm fine," he assured her with a grin. "Although… ye can't be positive there be no marks unless ye check everywhere."

She groaned as she kissed him again, shivering with anticipation. "I want you," she murmured breathlessly. "I want to be with you, but I'm afraid—"

His lips stifled her words, tongue hungrily brushing hers. He groaned into her mouth before drawing back. "Jayda," he whispered against her cheek, gliding toward her ear. "Quit bein' afraid and just be with me."

Could she do that? Could she really stop being afraid that she would lose him and just let things unfold as they would? She wanted to be with him more than anything, but she also knew that she couldn't lose him for anything, not even this.

He began unbuckling her tattered armor and she let him, even helped him. Then he was holding her close again, kissing her, seducing her into his web that she would not be able to escape from. She had made sure she had the strength to get back to him, but had used it all up so that she had no strength to resist him.

...

Gaelan began massaging her back and shoulders as he held her against him to help ease the tension in her body and, hopefully, coax her into accepting him. She was unbelievably knotted up, like there were bricks and stones where there should be muscle. But his fingers were strong and deft and she was soon humming in pleasure, lids floating closed.

"Jayda," he murmured quietly before kissing her lips and along her jaw. "I'm not afraid, not of who ye are. And there's no one else I want but you. It's only you. I only think of you."

"Gaelan…"

"I still have ye heart," he said with a grin against her cheek. "An' I it'n givin' it back without a fight."

"Keep it," she murmured.

Gaelan held her face in his hands and drew away from her enough to look into her eyes—those gray eyes gone gold—and briefly smiled at the surrender in her expression. His thumbs softly stroked her cheeks as he prepared himself for what he needed to tell her.

"I'm only gonna say this once, so pay attention and don't forget it," he began. He took a deep breath, hesitated, and then said, "I love you."

Jayda's small smile caused his heart to flutter. The emotion in her eyes that he couldn't identify back then was suddenly very clear to him. It was love.

"Only once?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he replied, "until the next time."

She inhaled sharply as he drew her into his mouth. Her fingers clawed his back in hunger, tugging at his tunic until she pulled it off of him. He scooped her up by her thighs and sat her on his desk, letting his hands roam over her body. He'd been dreaming of this body for months and now he couldn't stop touching it. Her legs tightened around his hips, tugging him closer as he worked to get her shirt off.

Her lips and breath on his chest made him pause and enjoy the moment. She had missed him as much as he had missed her, apparently, and he allowed her a few seconds to reacquaint herself with his body. She explored his chest and abdomen, fingertips tracing every hard line and scar. Her tongue flashed out to taste him and he groaned, trying to pry her away from his body and back to his mouth, but her hands held him tightly.

"I missed you," she whispered. "I missed this body… I dreamt of you. Dreamt of you holding me. Sometimes I dreamt you'd moved on, forgotten me…"

Moved on. He snorted at the idea. He had tried to move on. He had wanted to move on. But moving on was impossible. She had dug her claws into him good and he liked it. The only hard part about not moving on was the loneliness and the fear. And now that she was here in his arms again, he couldn't remember why he had ever wanted to move on. It would never get any better than her.

Then he was lost in the blur of touching and kissing, nearly falling over as he wrestled her pants and boots off whilst simultaneously kicking his own boots to the side. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his pants before freeing him from their tight restraint. She dropped to her knees as she tugged them down, and his eyes nearly rolled back at the feeling of her breath on his pelvis. He went down to the floor with her, rolling on top of her and tangling his fingers in her hair.

She was so beautiful and there she was in his arms, both of them naked and intertwined, and he desperately wanted to take it slow but he didn't have the patience or willpower to do it. She did nothing to stop him, only encouraged his pace, and so he sank into her, sighing hotly and groaning in pleasure.

"Gaelan," she murmured lustfully, and he bent to ravish her mouth. Her hips rose to meet him and so he quickly reversed their positions to put his back on the ground and her atop him.

The way her body flexed over his was intoxicating. His fingers sought the scars he'd come to appreciate before nimbly climbing her waist and caressing her back. Her hair bounced around her shoulders, eyes locked on his. He clutched her hips and joined her rhythm, reveling in every single moan and sigh. She muttered his name over and over again until he couldn't hold back.

He picked her up and gently dropped her onto his couch then climbed on top of her and set a new pace. He bent to kiss her shoulders, her collarbone, neck, and jaw. Then he covered her mouth with his and swallowed her gasps. His fingertips traced the outline of her ears, combed through her hair, wrapped around her shoulders to pull her against him. He whispered her name against her mouth until she cried out beneath him, shivering in her climax, and then he achieved his release.

He collapsed on top of her and closed his eyes when he felt her fingers gently gliding over his back. They laid in the quiet for quite some time while he listened to the sound of her heart beating beneath her breast. It sounded differently since her soul had been taken—slower, somehow erratic. Gaelan had seen and done a great many strange things in his life, but having one's soul ripped out of them? He couldn't imagine the pain she had felt or the suffering she endured now. He ached for her, felt angry for her, but he was a practical man. He kept his cool and fixed the problem. He could do that for her now: be someone strong she could lean on when it got too rough, and then he could help her fix the problem. He knew her well enough to know she had loads of friends willing to help her, but had there been anyone she would have dropped her guard down enough to lean on?

"Ye shouldn't say I'm no longer ye handler," he gently chided her. "I still handle ye well enough."

Jayda grinned, laughed while her cheeks flushed embarrassedly. He smirked, scooped her up, and carried her upstairs to his bed. While she curled up in the comforter, she watched him pull on a fresh pair of pants and make a fire in the hearth. She said nothing, just watched. When the fire was crackling, he took in the view. The blanket was draped over her shoulders and pulled into her lap, hair a messy tangle around her face. Her pale skin reflected the firelight, casting her in a soft, orange glow. The look in her eyes was all-consuming, drawing him deeper and deeper in. And even though she looked weaker, tired, and harassed by the loss of her soul, she was still so damn beautiful.

This was the feeling he had whenever he was with her, as though everything was right in the universe even when it was wrong. Only this time, he was completely liberated from his own chains. He had accepted his feelings—feelings that went against the nature of a loner thief. One person could change everything about someone's life. She knew that best of all.

"Ye hungry?" he asked her.

"A little." She made a face. "I haven't eaten since last night."

"Ye gone a whole day without food?"

"I had other things on my mind…"

He resisted the grin that tried to form. "I'll see what I have. Not too many reasons to cook meself—that's one of Arledrian's jobs. Can ye cook?"

"I… I can cook," she said seriously, almost offended that he'd asked. "Over a campfire, anyway…" She blushed as he laughed, threw another log on the fire, and walked over to her. "Gorion never taught me how. Someone always did the cooking for him, a neighbor. Now _she_ tried to tie me to the kitchen, but I always got away. Gorion didn't seem to mind. It amused him, I think, but he never said it."

"So ye settled on tavern plates and rations tastin' like leather?"

"Not entirely. I can catch my food just fine."

"Ye been on the road a long time."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"Is that what ye want?"

"What I want?" she echoed and he nodded. "I just want this to be over. I want my soul back. I want to disappear so no more power-hungry madmen or Bhaalspawn can find me. I want some place I can call home. I want… you." She reached out and touched his stomach, glided her hand up his side and caressed his chest. "I want to feel like this," she murmured. "If I could feel like this always, the Slayer could never touch me."

"How do ye feel?" he asked, gently rubbing the back of her hand that was splayed across his chest.

"Warm. Happy. Almost whole…"

"Why me?"

"There are so many reasons, Gaelan. I could never pick one."

"Good answer." And he captured her lips for a long, drawn out kiss, bringing back months' worth of sexual frustration. He pushed the blanket away from her shoulders, drawing her into him. This time, he could go slowly. This time, he could chase their pleasure all night long.

"Why me?" she asked him before he could crawl on top of her.

"Ah, I fell for ye the moment ye punched me in the face and dumped ale on me head," he told her as he climbed on top of her. She laughed. "An' there was ye hair. Me favorite color's red. This exact shade, too."

"Liar," she whispered with a smile.

"Prove it."

And then he stifled her words with his lips and tongue, and they forgot about how hungry they were.


	40. Shadow Thieves

**A/N: **Still not entirely happy with this one. Also, the Haer'dalis second is credited to the game or the mod I installed for Haer'dalis, not sure which, but I liked the dailogue, even if it seemed... random for him? I wanted to incorporate it, mostly because things felt... TOO loking up? I don't know. x3 I have been so distracted with SanSan fics and my mind is in another world, but I set a deadline for myself to finish this fanfic, so I'm doing my best to finish it quickly but without sacrificing the quality. T_T Hope it still reads well.

* * *

**Shadow Thieves**

When Jayda awoke, Gaelan's arms were around her. The sun hadn't been up long as the birds were still chirping with early morning music. She felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back and knew he was still asleep. She thought back to the previous night. After making love a second time, they snacked on fruits and nuts while curled up in bed. The sun had been on the verge of rising when sleep claimed them, and yet she was already awake. Since her soul had been ripped out of her, she had slept less and less.

Jayda sat up and watched Gaelan sleep. Her reunion with him had felt so surreal. In spite of her emotional whirlwind and the thunder of reality ebbing her thoughts, the fact that he had told her he was coming with her—her opinion on that be damned—and that he loved her had made her feel like she was dreaming. Could she be that happy? Did she have any right to be that happy or was it simply an unrealistic expectation amid the black hole growing in the center of her, a hole where her soul used to be. She reached out and brushed his hair from his eyes and kissed him then slipped out of bed. She dug a tunic out of his dresser so she wasn't completely naked and went downstairs in search of her clothes.

"Sneaking out?" Arledrian asked. Jayda turned to see him lurking on the far side of the room.

"Looking for my clothes," she replied warily. "I wanted to take a bath."

"I burned them not even an hour ago," he told her. "They were filthy."

"They were all I had."

"I'll replace them." He grinned. "In the mean time, take a bath. Relax. Unless," he narrowed his gaze on her, "you really were sneaking out."

"No," she said, feeling guilty. "I was thinking about it."

"That wouldn't do, lass," Arledrian said, picking at his nails with a pocket knife. "Gaelan would be upset to find you gone. Why would you want that?"

Jayda drew herself up and stared at him. He was a young boy, probably no older than she was when she left Candlekeep. His hair was a tousled mop of brown, skin tanned from labor, physique slight, and his jaw looked as though it had never grown a hair in his life. He was young, but she could see in his eyes how fiercely loyal he was. He had always rushed to defend Gaelan, and now he was here trying to protect him once more.

"You tell me, Arledrian, what you would do to protect someone you love."

"All I could," he replied instantly.

"Then you should understand why I'd be sneaking out."

"I don't."

"I want to protect him—from my enemies, from my father… If he goes with me like he said, he may never come back."

"He said?"

"Yes."

"Then it's not up for debate," Arledrian decided and Jayda narrowed her gaze on him. "Gaelan's a man who makes his own choices. As a woman of a similar caliber, you should respect that. You know Mae'Var?"

"I did," she replied. "I killed him."

"Right. So before he took over that branch, Gaelan ran it for Renal. It was the most profitable house in Amn. Mae'Var was Gaelan's up-and-coming, but he decided he wanted to run the house. He stages a midnight rebellion with his loyalists, but Gaelan plays his cards close to the chest, you know? So most of Mae'Var's supposed loyalists are actually against him and his rebellion ends before it can begin. Only he doesn't know it and challenges Gaelan. Gaelan beats him but doesn't kill him. Instead, he says, 'Ye want it, have it,' and turns the guild over to Mae'Var. Only everyone loyal to Gaelan transfers to a new house, leaving the rat with a handful of men, the shame of failure, and a debt to the quartermaster. You know what happened next, right?"

"The honor code would demand justice," she replied. "House failure isn't an option."

"So now it's out of Renal's hands. Aran Linvail steps in. As new Shadow Master, he has to make an impression. He restocks the house and shames Mae'Var for his failure and betrayal, but since Gaelan gave him the house after the rebellion, it's legitimate—something Gaelan planned, because the shame of inferiority is worse than death—and Aran ordered Mae'Var should pull in twice the profit Gaelan did. Of course, he never did, but he met his payments to the quartermaster, which is why he lived so long.

"So what to do with Gaelan? By rights stepping out like that could warrant death but he was too good a thief to let go of, so the Shadow Master tells him he can't have another branch and instead will work directly for him. So Gaelan fills the strange role between Shadow Master and guildmaster, taking special tasks appointed by Linvail. And so a thief becomes Lord of the Slums."

"He could've been killed for walking out on his house," Jayda mumbled.

"Aye, but that's Gaelan. Felt it wasn't right. Mae'Var hadn't been all bad back then, you see, so the betrayal really was a shock. So even though it could've cost him, he was ready to leave the Shadow Thieves, ready to die, 'cause a thief's honor doesn't extend to brotherhood."

"I get it," she whispered, folding her arms over her chest. Gaelan had taken the high road when he was on a path to the top. That was unexpected in a thief.

"He didn't say it at the time, but Renal told me once when he was drunk: Gaelan was loyal to his friends, to his men, and that was his only real flaw as a guildmaster. He was too loyal, and Mae'Var's treachery didn't cure him of it. But he played it off as arrogance, even though it really meant something to him. I can only imagine then how hard it was for him to tell you how he feels now."

"I think I understand that better than most," she told him, started for the stairs, and then turned back around. "You don't have to worry Arledrian. I told you I was thinking about it but… to be honest, I don't really have the strength to do it."

"Who's worried?" he asked. "We were just talking."

"Talking," she agreed and went back upstairs. Gaelan was leaning on the wall at the top landing, arms crossed over his chest. "I thought you were asleep."

"I can hear a squeak all the way to the Promenade, much less Arledrian's chirpin' in me own den. 'Sides that, I'm bound to notice when a full bed goes missin'. Ye goin' out?"

"No," she whispered as she climbed the rest of the stairs and slipped her arms around his waist. "I was about to wake you up."

"That right?"

"I wanted to take a bath."

Gaelan reached up to tuck some hair behind her ear before delicately tracing the shape and then drawing a line down her jaw. She remembered their last night together when she had been so cruel. Before Renal had walked in, they had been in the process of heading up to the bath. She wouldn't repeat that night again. Not ever.

He kissed her hungrily and lifted his shirt over her head. She worked his pants off of him and they backed into the bathroom. They never managed to make it into the tub, too engrossed in one another to wait for the water to heat up. They made love against the wall and bathed after. When they were soaked and soaped, Jayda talked a little about her plan to confront Bodhi.

"I'll ask the Shadow Master to help. Anomen's going to the Order for troops. With both groups aiding in the assault, I think we stand a really good chance of ending this cleanly and with as few lives lost as possible."

"Speakin' of the knightling—knight, now, I s'pose." He dipped his head and rinsed it off. "My investigations on his sister's murder turned over some interestin' results."

She paused with the sponge over her chest. "You found something."

"Aye. In so many accounts and betrayals, Saerk be the man responsible for the girl's death."

"Can you prove it?"

He smiled. "Think I would'a said somethin' if I couldn't?"

"No." She continued to rinse herself off. "You… kept investigating even though you and Anomen were at odds?"

"I didn't do it for him."

"Even after you and I—"

"I told ye I would," he said seriously. "Not in the habit of goin' back on me word."

Jayda blushed. She didn't know what she did or didn't deserve in a friend or a lover, but after all of the disappointment, the deceit, the struggling, the favors-for-favors, and the loss, she felt unexpectedly happy.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning into him. She kissed him and murmured, "thank you," then kissed him again.

/

The Copper Coronet was just as filthy and inviting as she remembered it. When Gaelan went off to see the Shadow Master that morning, Jayda had made her way to the inn to find her friends. When she walked in, she scanned the room and was stunned when she saw everyone gathered at the usual table enjoying breakfast.

"Minsc? Aerie?" Jayda called as her heart leapt into her throat. They jumped up and ran toward her. Her feet started moving to meet them and she leapt into her long lost ranger's arms. "Minsc!" He hugged her so tight that her ribs threatened to crack but she didn't care. When he let her down, she pulled the tiny Avariel girl into her arms and gave her a near-rib-cracking hug, too. "How? How did you get away?"

"Well, you didn't think I'd let them drown now, did you?" another voice said. Jayda looked up and saw Saemon Havarian swaggering toward her. "I told you I'd get you all to shore."

"You let the rest of us drown," she shot back, trying not to smile. She was so overcome with joy to find her friends safe, she could barely find it in her to be angry with the pirate.

"Would that I could've done something about that. Alas…" he sighed. "I did what I could for those I could do it for."

"You didn't run off just to save your own skin," she mumbled in awe. "Saemon, I'm so proud."

"Ah hell, let's not jump ship just yet. I mean, let's face facts: I _was_ saving my own skin. I just happened to save theirs along with my own." He smiled. "Think that makes us near even, don't you?"

"No," she said, "that makes us even." Jayda reached out and grasped his hand. "Thank you, Saemon."

He casually shrugged, but he was grinning with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now careful not to tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold." He clapped his hands together. "Speaking of which, I'm done with you and your crazy friends and crazier associations. Vampires, wizards, wars… I thought my life was hectic but yours," he shook his finger at her. "I'd be happy to never see you again for the rest of my life, thank you very much."

Jayda watched him go. There was a time when she knew she never wanted to see him again, either, but after today, she wasn't so sure. She took a deep breath and remembered the night he had tried to grope her while they waited for Haer'dalis to bring the pirate horn. So maybe she didn't want to see him ever again, after all.

She joined her friends at the table and smiled at everyone gathered. Imoen, Jaheira, Minsc, Aerie, and Haer'dalis were washed up, fed, and well-rested. Aside from their thin features and new scars, there was hardly any evidence that they had been through such hardships.

After Minsc and Aerie brought her up to speed on what had happened to them, they began to talk about their plans to confront Bodhi.

"I'm going to see the Shadow Master this afternoon," Jayda explained. "I'm positive he'll want to help us put Bodhi away for good. With the nature of the vampires, I doubt the Order would refrain from getting involved. I'm sure Anomen will report back soon."

"I've sent several birds to the Harpers in the area," Jaheira said. "Even just a couple could make a difference."

"Good. I hope they'll answer your call in time, but I won't wait too long. The Shadow Thieves can likely be ready tonight, but the Order may need a few days to mobilize their force. As soon as they're ready, we go into the crypts." Jayda ran her fingers back through her hair. It was the first time in a long time that she hadn't tied it back. "Armor, weapons—whatever you need, now's the time to get it. I was given a pot to dip into should the gold we accumulated run dry."

"That was generous," Aerie chirped.

"Yeah, too generous if you ask me," Imoen said. "Who's our noble benefactor, huh?"

Jayda clenched her jaw, trying to think how to word her answer. She didn't want to hide it from them but she didn't really feel like facing the music when everyone realized the nature of her and Gaelan's relationship.

"A thief," she finally replied.

"_The_ thief?" Imoen asked, waggling her brows and grinning.

"The thief?" Jaheira echoed, confusion quickly dissipating as she caught on. "Are you—"

"Imoen," Jayda snapped.

"Aw, c'mon, I saw him and wanted him for myself. Then bird boy here," she jammed a thumb in the bard's direction, "told me who he was. You can't keep that a secret."

"Which thief, exactly?" Jaheira asked.

"Gaelan Bayle," Jayda replied, completely and utterly embarrassed. Thankfully, no one said anything about it, only gave her looks that made her want to squirm in her chair—especially Haer'dalis' smile. She hated what she had to announce next. "I'll… I'm staying with him so… if you need me… that's where I'll be," she mumbled and Imoen howled, drawing a few wayward glances from other customers.

"Make sure you come to me tonight," Jaheira said. "We need to speak."

"Sure," Jayda said and scooted closer to Imoen as everyone went back to their meal and conversations. "Hey, you seem to be in better spirits than before. You seem almost like… yourself."

"Yeah?" Imoen asked. "Well, maybe while you were off being the chosen one for the Shark-Feather, a little bird whispered some sense into me." She smiled and leaned closer. "If you're trying so hard to get us through this, I can, too. I know you worry about me, Jayda. But you don't have to. I'm fine… for now."

Jayda laid her cheek on top of Imoen's head and smiled. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, I can tell." The pink-haired girl gently elbowed her in the gut and winked. "Now let's get our souls back, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Shortly after they finished their breakfast, Jayda abandoned them to find repairs or new equipment on their own. Her first stop was to see Cromwell, a blacksmith Gaelan recommended to her. He examined the silver blade and the hilt she brought him and agreed, for a fine price, to reforge the sword. He promised he could shorten it without it losing any of its special properties, and rebalance the hilt with the blade. After dumping a bag of gold on his table, she made her way to the Shadow Thieves building of operations and inhaled the smell of fresh leather, oiled steel, and coin. Gaelan motioned her over and she met him by a door.

"Linvail's finishin' up a meetin'. In the meantime, we need to get ye a new set of armor." He led her into another room, down a flight of stairs, and into the workshop. "Thought this might be more to ye tastes."

There was a brand new set of finely oiled black leather armor on a stand, held together with silver studs and rivets. The fauld was belted to the plackart, which was belted to the cuirass, and there were tassets hanging from the fauld. Matching spaulders , cowters, and bracers were buckled onto the mesh stand. For the legs, there were cuisses made with leather lames to provide maximum movement, greaves with attached knee guards, and boots. The black of the armor was so deep that it seemed to repel all light.

"What do ye think?" Gaelan asked her as she reached out to touch it.

"This is Shadow armor, isn't it?" she asked, awed by the fine craftsmanship before her. "It's so beautiful."

"And yers," he said. She looked at him and smiled. "There was somethin' of a unanimous verdict on ye havin' a set for takin' on Bodhi."

"Take off the tassets and it's a deal."

"Deal," he said. He had a look in his eyes that made her feel hot inside. She noticed how everyone around them was staring and grinning. Most everyone. There were a few women who didn't seem too pleased. "Daven, take off the tassets, ay."

"Sure thing," the leathersmith said and they departed from the shop.

He walked with her to Linvail's private chamber and they waited outside the ornate door for him to become available. It was refreshing to walk in the open with Gaelan, though slightly intimidating. It seemed word had already spread—and even if it hadn't, the thieves could put two and two together when they saw the ex-handler and Bhaalspawn still together after all the time that had passed. Since Candlekeep, every place she had ever gone was no more than a short stop on the way to somewhere else. Even Baldur's Gate could not have been her home. Yet with the familiarity of Athkatla and the acceptance of the thieves guild, she felt almost welcome.

"Ah, Jayda," Renal said when he suddenly appeared. "You've returned and glad I am to see it's true. I looked for my dear friend last night but couldn't find him. I trust you had him well-occupied."

"What do ye want, Renal?" Gaelan asked.

"Simply to congratulate my friend on her success, welcome her return, and chide her for my loss."

"Pardon?" she asked, raising her brows.

"News travels fast around here, as you well know. First I lost my drinking buddy and now I lose my friend. I trust you'll keep him safe beyond the wall."

"Aye ye gettin' emotional, Renal? Ye gonna cry, maybe?"

"That hurts, Gaelan, especially when I'm so concerned for you," the shadow thief said with a smile. Jayda resisted a grin. Renal suddenly put his arm around her shoulders. "Jayda, should you return, I have a proposition for you."

"And what's that?"

"I require someone to take the position left vacant by Mae'Var. All the promising prospects have, shall we say, been less than up to the challenge. It must be someone I can trust, so they cannot be too mired in the politics of the region. You handled Mae'Var and his rhetoric, and you seem to understand the benefits of supporting the larger guild, not to mention all you've done in its service. What do you say? Care to have your name placed above a young guild of shadow thieves?"

Jayda glanced at Gaelan who seemed just as surprised as she was to hear the offer. She mulled it over for a moment, considering her options. If she successfully retrieved her soul and lived to tell the tale, where would she go? What would she do? Athkatla wasn't a bad place to stop and stay for awhile. There would be coin in it and she could be with Gaelan.

"All right," she agreed. "I can look after a few thieves for you."

"Excellent, I look forward to seeing what you can do." Renal slowly drew her down the hall, arm still around her neck, as he explained. "I will seed Mae'Var's vacant office with a few promising young thieves. Do not think me totally benevolent, I still intend to get some profit out of you. There will be a quota you must meet, though with your reputation and with Gaelan's eye, I doubt you'll have any trouble. I will appoint a lieutenant of skill to aid you. Jariel will serve as a fine right hand, I think. You'll like him. He will be waiting for you when you return."

"I don't know when that will be," she said and stopped walking. He withdrew his arm and nodded. "But I'll make you proud when I do."

"A woman after my own heart. I did tell you that you remind me of me when I was just a young man, didn't I? It's refreshing to have a sneak with wit. I have plenty of yes-men already."

And then he shuffled off. Gaelan grinned when she walked back to him.

"Runnin' ye own house now?"

"Seems that way. And isn't it strange that it should be your old house?"

"Aye, well, I guess it won't hurt to give ye a few tips then. Grand master to pupil, o'course."

"I'm not calling you master…"

"Ye will when I'm through with ye," he replied.

Then the door opened and they were ushered inside. Gaelan hung out in the corridor but Aran motioned him in.

"This concerns you as well, if the rumors are true," the Shadow Master told him and then focused on Jayda. He crossed his palms and smiled at her. "So you returned after all, and far sooner than I expected. After you left on Havarian's ship, I must admit that I half-wondered if you would reach the island, never mind return."

"That makes two of us," she said, narrowing her gaze on him. "Saemon betrayed me after all."

"He betrayed you?" Aran seemed honestly surprised. "Oh, don't look at me like that, it was _not_ because of me. Saemon Havarian was not one of my men in the slightest."

"I know." She grinned. After every sly thing he had inflicted on her, she couldn't help making him squirm for a second. "It was Bodhi and Irenicus that threatened his cooperation, but he turned around in the end."

Aran went to his liquor tray and poured a glass. "I saw his ship come into harbor. Does his disloyalty bear further punishment or have you seen to that sufficiently?" He offered her the bottle but she shook her head.

"He and I are square for the time being."

"Good. Now on to pressing matters." He took a sip of his drink and began a slow pace back and forth. "Bodhi, as you know, has returned. I know you intend to go after her, and, this time, I would like you to end her existence permanently."

"That's why I'm here. I have blessed stakes and Holy Water from the elves. Now I need men. I've given her sufficient notice that I'm coming for her. She'll gather all of her kin to her side to try and stop me. She's even more arrogant than before and convinced she can kill me, but after an incident at Spellhold… she won't take any chances. We can end the vampires for good."

"Why is she so confident when you've beaten her before? What's to stop her running again should she fail?"

"She has Imoen's divine soul inside her."

"I see. That is… unfortunate news. Do you have a plan?"

"I do. We're going to overwhelm her. I want a team at every entrance into that crypt. Anomen will be bringing the Order into the fight. The knights attack from the light, drawing their attention, and the thieves attack from the shadows, throwing them into chaos. I'm taking my team straight for Bodhi."

"I will have Arkanis and Yachiko and the rest of our best assassins join you," he promised and sipped his drink. "And what, may I ask, are your plans afterward?"

"Irenicus has to pay. I missed my chance in Spellhold but I won't fail again. I'm going after him. This time, he can't escape."

"You're accompanying her, I presume?" Aran asked, eyeing Gaelan.

"Aye," he replied.

"Do the Shadow Thieves say goodbye to another good man? We've lost too many and I cringe at the task of replacing you."

"Ye'd replace me so soon, Aran?" he asked. "I think I deserve a vacation after all this time, but I'll be back."

"Very well. Then I will have my assassins ready in a day and," he lifted his glass, "we will drink to the vampires' second death." He downed his drink and Jayda turned to go. Aran caught her by her elbow. "Incidentally," he said quietly, "good luck, Jayda."

"Thank you, Shadow Master," she replied.

/

"Good," Jaheira said the moment she opened the door and saw Jayda standing there. "Come in." She closed the door when Jayda was inside. "What is Gaelan Bayle to you?"

Jayda fidgeted. She hadn't actually believed she would get scolded for her relationship with him. As the druid looked at her with that motherly stare, it became impossible to think of a reply other than the utter truth.

"He's someone I care about very much. His memory got me through the labyrinth and the Underdark. And he cares for me, too."

"I see. And since when has this been going on?"

"Since before we went to the D'Arnise Keep."

Jaheira sighed, sat down in a chair, and motioned her closer. "Come here, then, and let me have a look at you."

"A look at me?" she echoed as she came to stand before her.

Jaheira reached out and touched her stomach, closed her eyes, and a warm sensation spread over her belly. Magical fingers probed inside her gut intrusively but she somehow felt calmed by the phenomenon. Jaheira's hand glided down her stomach in a brief caress and the warmth spread, blooming up into her chest and down into her legs. And then it was gone and Jaheira was standing up.

"You aren't with child," she said, then went to her table and began mixing herbs and liquid into a glass.

Jayda didn't know how to respond so she just stood there dumbly and considered the implications. What if she had been pregnant? She hadn't even thought of it. Could she bring children into the world knowing the taint would be within them as well? As a woman on the run from her parentage, it would be irresponsible of her to even think about bearing children.

"Drink this," Jaheira said, shoving a glass into her hands. Jayda nearly gagged as she gulped it down, feeling the druid's fingers on the bottom of the cup, forcing her to swallow it all.

"What in the Nine Hells was that?" she sputtered quietly.

"For your own good," she replied, taking the glass away.

"I know that awful taste," Jayda mumbled. "Once, on the road to Nashkel from the Mines, I took a swig of one of your skins thinking it to be water, but it wasn't. It was this. You were furious."

"Of course I was. A young girl as you were had no business drinking it." Jaheira sighed. "I drank it back then, yes, so that Khalid never got me with child. It is an elixir to prevent that from happening." Her stark eyes grabbed Jayda's attention and held her gaze. "You should be cautious as well. Now is not the time for family. It is a time for survival."

"I know…" Jayda mumbled and sat down.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, kneeling down in front of her. "You look terrible these days."

"Before we returned to Amn, I admit I was feeling fairly low… But being with Gaelan, finding Minsc and Aerie, seeing Imoen chipper like her old self… it's renewed my spirits a bit."

"I'm glad. I worry over your frame of mind."

"I need to tell you something, Jaheira." Jayda got down on her knees so that the women were eye-level. "I have begun trying to... understand what it means to be a child of Bhaal. The Slayer is a survival mechanism. Maybe for Bhaal, it was merely a force of destruction, but not for me. It's something else. I used to think—perhaps naively—that I could just siphon Bhaal out of me one day and continue my life. But now I'm not so sure…"

"What are you saying?" Jaheira grabbed her shoulders and Jayda gently placed her hands on the woman's wrists.

"I'm saying that everything I hate is in me—in my blood and bones and skin and soul. I cannot rip it out no more than Irenicus could by taking my soul. There was something left behind because I am still alive. There is something still within me. The quieter I become, the more I listen for it, the louder I hear it. The more I try to feel it, the hotter the embers become. It's hard to explain. It's almost like… I don't have to be stronger, I _am_ stronger. Because if I look for it, it's there… lurking beneath my skin."

"You're trying to use your gift," Jaheira surmised. "I do not know if this is wise, child. You have always run from Bhaal's influence and it has kept you true."

"I am not running anymore—not from Bhaal or myself or what I think I could become every time I admit who I am." Jayda grasped her friend's shoulders. "I'm _dying_, Jaheira, I can feel it…" _You will wither, you will wane, and you will die. _"The Slayer won't release me without a fight. And every time I become the Slayer, I think I die a little more. So if things go badly against Irenicus, you must get everyone away from me. Get them out of Suldanessellar. Becoming the Slayer might be the only way…"

"You expect the worst. You do not think we can defeat him."

"He has my soul, Jaheira. He's stronger than we can imagine—"

"No!" she insisted. "Jayda, you don't have to do this. Reclaim your soul, yes, but do not sacrifice who you are because you believe that we could fail. Trust in us. Trust in yourself."

"I do, I trust you…" she whispered, looking into her friend's dark gaze. "Now you trust me. Running away turns me into a husk of a person that can only watch her loves ones suffer. If I embrace Bhaal, I am Sarevok reborn. I don't want either destiny, so I'm taking the third path. My own. Who am I? I have spent so long trying not to be my father or my brother that I do not even know who I am. But they are both within me, in my blood and bones. I can never escape that no matter how far I run."

The motherly expression Jaheira often gave her was gone. The secrets Gorion kept from her, the secrets that motivated Jaheira and Khalid to take up her guardianship were in the past. She no longer looked at her like a child in need of protection, but as a friend worthy of following. It was the look Khalid had given her often.

Back then, Jaheira had been more of a mother—harsh but fair—to her. Khalid had been a friend—gentle and understanding. They had laughed often together and his warm arms were never closed to her when she felt lonely and hopeless. She had been a child back then, nurtured and loved by Gorion's loyal friends.

"Khalid would be so proud of you, Jayda," Jaheira whispered, reaching up to softly stroke her hair. "Just as I am so proud of you."

"I miss him. I wish he was here."

"So do I, child. So do I."

When Jayda left Jaheira, she swiped at the emotion in her eyes and spotted Haer'dalis making his way to his room. "Wait!" she called, jogging over to him. "Have you seen Anomen?"

"Nay, my raven, the Dane has yet to grace us with his presence." He must've read concern in her eyes because he reached out and caught her chin. "Do not fret. I'm positive he's busy at his duties having been gone so long."

"You're right," Jayda said and managed a half-smile. "Absolutely no fretting."

He smiled fully at her. She didn't know why, but his smile almost seemed sad. She wanted to ask him if something was wrong but he didn't give her time to find the right words.

"You seem renewed, my raven," he stroked the side of her face, "as though all the fears of yesterday have been cast to oblivion."

"We found Minsc and Aerie. We'll have the support of the Shadow Thieves and Order of the Most Radiant Heart. We'll be able to destroy Bodhi and get Irenicus. Even if it's just a spark of hope, things are looking up a little, don't you think?"

He just stared thoughtfully at her then stroked her face again and said, "You frighten me at times, my raven."

"Why?"

He quirked a brow. "Surely I am not the first to comment upon your frightful nature."

"No one I ever knew so well has ever mentioned it… Others have, of course, but usually in the wake of a battle. What have I done to make you say this?"

Haer'dalis went into his room and Jayda followed him, wondering what had gotten into her sparrow that he was casting sorrowful glances this way and that while speaking so seriously.

"Any progeny of your parentage is feared by many for no other reason than the taint in your veins. This is not what I find worrisome when I look upon you, though mayhap it is all related." He looked over his shoulder at her. "You are a harbinger of entropy and chaos, and our time spent together has done nothing but prove this true time and again. What I have only recently come to realize is that this decay does not touch _you_. It clings to you, moves through you, taints everything near you with its relentless hunger, but it is not part of you."

"I don't understand."

"Nothing weighs you down. Nothing stops you from attaining that which you put your mind to. Everything that should take a piece of you, break you as time and decay break all things, instead gives you strength. You create power from nothing, from _less than_ nothing." He took graceful but frustrated steps toward her until he was so close she could feel his breath on her face. His words grew more agitated, spoken quicker, and his hands waved dramatically with every punctuated point. "Horrific, world-altering, tragic events shadow your every move! Were you any other person, any other creature, you would have long ago been crushed beneath the weight of your life, my raven! Does none of this worry you?"

Jayda swallowed hard, frowning as she stared at him. Normally, Haer'dalis was the one supporting her and encouraging her to stay strong. Now it felt as though he were judging her for the very thing he praised.

"Should it?" she asked quietly. He sighed and walked away from her. "Should it?" she asked again more forcefully. "Before, you were inspired by this. You admired me, approved of my ways—even when I thought your words mere flattery. You set me straight, and now the very thing you commended scares you?"

"Can it not be both? 'Tis likely something you cannot change short of ending your life prematurely, but in many ways that only makes me fear you more even as I am inspired by it. Everything unnatural comes so naturally to you…"

"_Unnatural_? You said you'd never think me a monster."

"And never would I. You are the raven of my heart."

"Why are you saying this?"

"I… I overheard what you spoke with Jaheira about." He did not look at her when he said it. "And because I am angry with myself. Because I am a victim to my feelings. Because an actor I am, but a man you make me."

Jayda had no idea what to say to him. She felt ambushed and lonely. He may have seemed false at times, heaping flowery words of unnecessary and feigned flattery upon her, but Haer'dalis had always supported her. He had understood her even when it was hard for the others to do so. Before she left for Brynnlaw, she thought him merely another set of swords to slay her foes. Now, she couldn't imagine having survived it all without him. She was his raven! And even though she didn't say it often, he was her sparrow.

Weren't they a flock now? In her heart, Haer'dalis had become something of a feathery soul mate. He was her dear friend. But he had made it clear that the feelings he harbored for her were greater than friendship. She wished she could reciprocate them, but she was in love with Gaelan Bayle, and Haer'dalis knew it long before he ever fell in love with her. There was nothing to be done. Perhaps destiny had gone its course, regardless of knowledge and hearts, and maybe that meant there was only one way to go from here.

"You don't have to stay here, Haer'dalis. I would understand if you wished to go."

"Never. Never in a thousand years." But he did not sound happy about it. Still, she was relieved to hear him say it. "Do you not see that this is a good thing? You dance amid ribbons of chaos and they do not touch you."

"You don't make it sound like a good thing…"

"Ah, this sparrow is a heartbroken Doomguard, nothing more or less. Pay him no heed."

"That would never happen." She walked over to him. "What you had to say had always been important to me."

"Then hear me now," he said and gently took her hand in his. "Forget the harsh words of this sparrow and know that he still finds you to be the most alluring and beautiful bird in the sky. And if you fly south, south is where I must go. There is no place I would never follow. Just do this one thing for me, my raven, and never fly somewhere I could not follow."

It was almost something she could promise.


	41. A Final Death

**A Final Death**

Jayda threw her arms over her head and ducked under an awning on her way to the Temple district. It was mid-afternoon but the clouds that rolled in that morning had hidden the sun and left the sky blanketed in gray. The first raindrops had started to fall when she set out from the Copper Coronet in search of Anomen. He had yet to find them and she wanted to make sure the preparations with the Order were coming along well. Her plan hinged on having all the support she could get.

Jayda drew her hood up over her hair and jogged through the steady shower when she saw a knight leading his unit out of the Most Radiant Heart's headquarters and up the street.

"Sir!" she exclaimed, sliding on the cobblestones as she rushed up to the head of the troupe. He reached out and gently took her shoulders to stop her from sliding to the ground.

"Be careful, my lady."

"Thank you. Tell me, you're with the Order. Has Anomen Delryn been to see the Prelate?"

"He has, my lady. Our aid was enlisted to remove the vampiric threat to this city."

"Then the Order will march?"

"I am Sir William Reirric, my lady. I am to lead the assault. Who are you, might I ask, to be so curious of this affair?"

"I'm a friend of Anomen's. I'm Jayda," she replied, tugging the hood closer to her face as the rain picked up. Reirric seemed pleasantly surprised and he drew her under the safety of a nearby pavilion.

"_You_?" he asked. "You're the lady Jayda who is organizing the assault against the vampires?"

"I'm more intimidating in my armor," she admitted with a wry smile. "Is Anomen with you? I've been looking for him all day."

Reirric frowned and Jayda suddenly got a terrible feeling in her stomach. "He's not with us," he said. "He left last night to meet with you."

Jayda's arms went out to steady herself and Reirric immediately reached out to hold her up. Air was escaping her at the moment and her head felt fuzzy. She blinked a few times, focused on the anger suddenly building up in her heart, and gripped the knight's gauntleted arms.

"You have to assemble your men _now_," she said. "We go as soon as possible. Anomen's in danger."

"What's happened?" he asked, alarmed.

"Bodhi has him," she replied, stalking off toward the Slums but he grabbed her and pulled her back.

"Are you positive? How do you know?"

"If he isn't with you and he isn't with me, she has him. There's nowhere else he would go." She jerked out of his grasp. "Hurry!"

/

Assembling the Shadow Thieves took less time than Jayda imagined. The Order of the Most Radiant Heart, however, needed hours to finish assembling their force, armor them, and sharpen their steel. It gave Jayda and her friends plenty of time to get fitted in their new or repaired gear. She barely had time to appreciate the feel of her new Shadow armor with how worried she was.

"She wouldn't hurt him," Imoen said as Jayda flipped open her pack and dumped the contents onto Jaheira's bed. "She saw how you flipped out before. Do you think she'd dare do something to risk the Slayer coming out again?"

Minsc, Aerie, Jaheira, Imoen, Haer'dalis, and Gaelan were all gathered in the druid's room at the Copper Coronet, ready to depart for the graveyard. Jayda took handfuls of stakes and passed them to each of her friends. More bundles had already been provided to the thieves and the knights, so she'd been promised.

"Don't be naïve, Imoen," Jayda snapped. "She means to kill us all. Maybe she thinks with her entire force at her side, the Slayer won't be a problem. Besides, back then she was adjusting to your soul inside of her." Jayda paused when she felt a strangely bundled lump amid her things. "Now she's had plenty of time to come into her abilities." She glanced over her shoulder at her sister before picking up the foreign bundle. "Your abilities."

Imoen protested the idea as Jayda unfolded the corners of the cloth. A beautiful dagger gleamed in an ebon sheath, sinister twists of the metal portraying a slender spider with blade-like legs. Jayda used her thumb to flick the dagger an inch from the sheath and was surprised to see a fang of red steel. A piece of paper crumbled beneath the weapon so she tugged it out and read it. _Its name is_ _Fire Tooth, a red weapon for a Red Lady._ She didn't know where it came from but she had a guess. Only the mercenary Jarlaxle would have been able to sneak something into her things. Or would have, at any rate.

"Are we ready to depart, then?" Haer'dalis asked. Jayda twitched a nod as she was pulled from her examination of her new weapon.

"Yes. I'll be down in a minute," she replied.

"Butt kicking!" Minsc declared. "For goodness!"

Jayda drew the blade and examined it as her friends filtered out of the room, all but Gaelan who hovered by the door. She slid her finger along the blade's edge, impressed by its sharpness. The steel felt strong. There was a burning sensation at the tiny slit on her thumb, and she thought the red tint of the steel held magical properties, perhaps fire damage. She flipped it into the air and caught it by the tip of the blade then launched it across the room. It stuck fast in the wall—a solid hit. It was a good dagger.

Before she could move to retrieve it, it suddenly reappeared in her hand. Jayda stared in stunned silence then looked back at Gaelan to see if he had seen it, too, or if she was just going crazy. He was grinning. So she wasn't crazy. First good sign of the night.

"Ye should show me where it is ye shop to come by such interestin' toys."

Jayda belted the dagger onto her hip and whisked out of the room, Gaelan in tow. "I want you to lead the Shadow Thieves into the crypt," she told him.

"I'd just as rather go with ye," he argued.

"This isn't about me trying to protect you," she said. "I need someone with skill and wit to lead the assassins. They'll trust you. You're one of their own, more so than I am."

"Arkanis and Yachiko are good assassins. They'll lead the lot well enough," he said as they descended the stairs.

"I don't know Arkanis and Yachiko. I know you."

"Ye don't know me fightin' style—"

"I know you're as fast as I am, if not faster." She stopped him at the landing. "Right now, I'm not your lover, Gaelan. I'm your leader." It felt strange saying she was anyone's leader. "This is for the mission, not for me."

"Ye'll always be both." He reached up and pushed a fly-away strand of hair out of her eyes, fingertips idly brushing the tip of her ear and down one of the leather ties that bound a cluster of red strands. "All right. I'll lead 'em."

"Thank you."

They gathered the rest of the group and met the Shadow Thieves at the guild hall. Edwin stood with them, red robe blindingly bright at dusk. He gave a rueful smile when he saw her, lazily sidling up to stand beside her.

"So you return and bring chaos down upon us. How typical," he said and sniffed. Jayda cut her eyes up to him and then back to the assembling assassins.

"You missed me," she mumbled, signaling for the group to form up and follow her. As they headed into the streets, she heard Edwin mumbling.

"Try not to cause more trouble than necessary," he said. Minsc stepped up and clapped the wizard on the shoulder, nearly knocking him to the ground. Jayda glanced back at her ranger, not entirely believing that the hard slap that caused Edwin to trip was an accident of strength.

"We do not cause trouble," Minsc declared. "We merely seek it out and put the bootheels of justice to it!"

Edwin rolled his eyes and sank further back in the ranks to avoid associating with them. Jayda and her companions led the Shadow Thieves to the Graveyard where, on approach, they quickly dispersed into the night. The knights of the Order were just arriving, Reirric at the head. No words needed to be said as they marched into the Graveyard, the chill of the evening and the light rain settling a thick fog over the stones.

"Hold," Jayda said quickly, stopping the force behind her. She peered through the haze and saw the slim, curvy figure of the vampiress herself pierce the pale cloud.

"You are becoming an impressive pest, one that I am finding difficult to ignore," Bodhi murmured. "I grow tired of seeing you in my shadow."

"I was not the one that fled our last encounter, Bodhi. Sorry if I scared you."

"Hardly," the vampire hissed. "It was simply more important that I report of your condition to Irenicus. He has decided that it is of no importance, interesting though it is. He seemed to think you would be dead before it could matter, and yet here you are. Honestly, Jayda, I simply do not know what to do with you."

"You were so certain before," she retorted. "Don't you think you can kill me, Bodhi? Come and try it."

"You will be dead soon enough," she purred, but there was anger in her eyes. "This time, you must find me, and all the other things you've lost… if you can."

Bodhi smiled and dissipated into the fog. Jayda rounded up the knights and led them to the crypt where they descended into the black. When they reached the open space and headed for the blue doors, they found them unguarded and open. Jayda passed out the jars of holy water among the knights and told them to empty the contents into any blood pools they could find. She kept one for herself.

The knights led the charge into the inner sanctum and even Jayda was surprised by the amount of vampires and fledglings that swarmed them. From all direction, undead hissed and shrieked and attacked. Jayda and her companions were immediately pulled into the battle. All around them, steel flashed and crashed to the scuffle of boots on stone and the shrieks of the dying.

Blood splattered the golden walls in crimson streaks as both the living and the dead took and gave fatal wounds. The knights called upon the power of Helm, but it was Aerie's false dawn that truly beat back the overwhelming first wave of vampires. The bright flash caused the weaker ones to die instantly, burned up in hot flames, and the stronger ones wriggled and stumbled back in agony, skin searing in the light.

But a second wave soon swarmed the hall, bringing more fledglings than before.

"Protect the mages!" Jayda shouted, jumping in to form a tight circle around Aerie, Imoen, and Edwin. Jaheira and several full-plated knights joined her, fighting off the vile creatures that lunged at their charges, hoping to stop any more false dawns from being cast.

"There's too many of them," Imoen announced. "I can't get a spell off without risking hitting someone else!"

All around them, maces and morning stars crushed and smashed at dead, gray skin while glistening claws and sinister fangs lashed out at plate and flesh. One of the stronger vampires broke through the battle and flew toward Jayda and her friends. She dodged to the side and hacked the creature's arm but he slipped away before the blade could cut all the way through. Jaheira caught him in the gut with her quarterstaff and pushed him back, but he was not deterred. His target was Aerie.

He slipped past their defense line and jerked her up into his claws. Jayda tossed her dagger and speared him in the throat, causing him to tumble backward in shock. One of the knights pulled Aerie away even while trying to fend off an attack from another angle. The vampire reached for the dagger, eyes glowering, but it reappeared in Jayda's hand as she rolled toward him and came up, jamming it up through his chin. When he hissed at her, she could see the blade behind his fangs, penetrating his lower jaw and the roof of his mouth.

He grabbed her by her throat and lifted her into the air, clutching her so tightly that her vision went fuzzy. She kicked wildly, clawing at his arm. That's when Minsc appeared and hacked it off, dropping her to the ground. As her vision cleared up, she saw the ranger hammer a stake into the vampire's chest and then stomp it home when the creature fell to the ground.

The thieves rushed in from the darkness shortly after, overwhelming the vampires. It was quick, bloody work from there. Many of the injured retreated back into the hallways that branched off of the golden room, and many more rushed in to take their places, but with the thieves and the knights, the tides had turned.

"Into the halls!" Jayda screamed. "After them! Find the pools!"

Several groups of knights and thieves spread out, thinning the numbers in the inner sanctum and giving Jayda a direct line to the back staircase where many vampires had fled. She glimpsed Gaelan's gaze from across the room, gave him an assuring nod, and led her companions through the battle. By the time they hit the stairs, a small group of assassins was rushing ahead of her, sprinting for the fleeing group. They reached a large stone door and flew through. Jayda slid to a stop before the door, throwing her arms wide. The trap had been sprung.

Spikes sprang up and speared the thieves, throwing blood back onto her and her friends. The thieves' weight pushed the trap back down as they slumped to the ground. The octagonal room before them had a large, bubbling pool in the center with smaller ones gurgling on four walls. There was ornate scribbling on the golden floor in black chalk—strange symbols and death-figures connected by lines. Torches burned on all sides and with the silence—for even this far underground the battle above could not be heard—the place felt like an ancient tomb.

Jayda slowly entered the room, stepping gently. Her eyes bounced here and there looking for a mechanism to trigger the trap and, when she found one, she gently lowered herself to the ground to inspect it. One of the dead thieves was lying over a loose button that looked no more a stone, but it was been sprung and would not easily be reset.

She motioned the rest of her friends inside, counting three other doors, one between each blood pool, and wondered who or what might come through them. This whole room was a trap, she realized, but there was no helping it. Bodhi was there. She could feel her.

"And so it shall end here," the women purred from the darkness. "Welcome."

"I've come for what you stole from me!" Imoen shouted, turning this way and that as she tried to discern the woman's location. "I _will_ have my soul!"

"You may try but you will fail," Bodhi taunted her. Her voice echoed in the room, seeming to come from every direction at once. "We have worked long to realized our revenge, and it will not be stopped by you. Your soul is mine, now. Do not tell me that you miss it—you who did not even know the gift you had within you."

"It _is_ missed!" Imoen shouted back as the group slowly fanned out, trying to find the vampire's hiding place. "It's mine! It belongs to me! And I'll never let you use it for evil!"

Bodhi yawned—a shrill sound that surrounded them. "Do spare me the boredom of your tiring rebuff. It is futile."

"We've come for the Lanthorn!" Jayda exclaimed. "There's no escape for you this time, Bodhi. I'll have your black heart on a pike for what you've done."

"I have no intention of escaping," Bodhi hissed, her voice suddenly concentrating in one location. Jayda's eyes locked on the blood pool in the center of the room. The gurgling wasn't noticeable at first, but now everyone had stopped to stare. Slowly, Bodhi rose out of the blood, a voluptuous and dripping statue of crimson. "You have come to your final battle with me, Jayda," she declared in a gentle, sensuous voice with her head tilted back in pleasure. Then suddenly those black eyes flashed open. "And I intend to enjoy it."

"As do I," Jayda growled, ripping the vial of holy water off of her belt. She dumped it into the pool where Bodhi stood.

A loud shriek shook the underground as the water turned black and Bodhi began to steam. As she sprang forward to escape the purifying spell, the doors flew open and several vampires poured from each opening. The room erupted in a chaotic fight, most of them forced to battle two vampires at once. Jayda lost a lot of ground in the surprise attack, dodging and rolling and trying to find an advantage or opening. She looked deep inside herself, found the strength and speed in her muscles and joints. She could feel the power creeping into her limbs. Suddenly, the vampires weren't moving as quickly or striking as hard. Soon, she was the one beating them back.

Then Bodhi interfered, recovered from the spray of holy water, and hit Jayda so hard she thought her jaw might break. She grunted and brought her blades up to block the next attack, but Bodhi was gone. Across the room, she picked Aerie up by her head and threw her into one of the side pools. She flashed to where Haer'dalis stood and ripped him back by his hair, slashing at his neck and chest. Then she was attacking someone else.

Jayda scrambled to her feet and tried to run to them, but the vampires she had been fighting stopped her. She slapped at them, amazed by the power Bodhi had accumulated. How had she become so strong or that fast in so short of time? Had it been Imoen's soul that made this possible? If so, what would Irenicus be capable of?

"Imoen!" Jayda screamed when Bodhi appeared behind her. "Imoen!"

The pink-haired girl screamed and kicked wildly as Bodhi grabbed her by the neck from behind. She forced her head to the side and grinned at Jayda from over the girl's shoulder.

"Your part in this ends here!" she hissed. "I shall feast on the blood of the gods, while you enter death!" She opened her mouth wide, bearing her fangs, and went to sink them into Imoen's neck.

A clamor in the hallway distracted her long enough for Jayda to release her magical dagger and spear Bodhi's hand. She hissed and dropped Imoen to the ground as Gaelan and his thieves spilled into the room, several knights clambering in after them.

Jayda sprang across the room to help Aerie out of the blood pool. The Avariel groaned, alive but unconscious. She held her close, cradled in her arms, and surveyed the room. All around her, she saw her friends fighting hard, wounded and bloody. The back-up had only evened out the playing field, but the allies Bodhi had drawn to her side were elder vampires not easily defeated.

As she looked around, she saw past one of the doors. In the back room, Anomen was lying on an altar, pale as a ghost. Her face fell in hopelessness. Was he dead? Had Bodhi killed him rather than hold him prisoner? She had slaughtered him rather than dangle him before her in taunts and threats? Jayda had counted on Bodhi's wicked nature to win out, knowing she would rather torment both Anomen and Jayda by keeping him alive—tortured, in pain, but alive.

She had never believed that fighting Bodhi would be easy, but she had felt empowered by the knights and thieves supporting their cause. She had been renewed by the discovery that Minsc and Aerie were alive and well. She was happy that Gaelan loved her. She had felt hope and strength and confidence—but was it hubris instead?

When she looked around her again, she saw two of the elders fall but they had taken four thieves with them. There was so much blood and so much pain. She gently laid Aerie on the ground and then stood up. That's when her vision went dark.

...

Gaelan parried a vampire witch's claws and jammed a dagger up into her ribs before spinning out of reach of another swing and slashing a long wound down her arm. They danced like that for several more minutes and then he tossed a stake into the witch's chest, kicked it into her heart, and ran to help the nearest fighter.

Suddenly Jaheira screamed in agony and fell to the ground, clutching her stomach in horrendous pain. He tried to track a wound but saw none.

That's when he saw Jayda across the room, gently laying Aerie on the ground. Had the elf-girl died? He cringed, knowing Jayda would be upset. But when she stood up and lifted her eyes, there were no tears. In fact, there wasn't sorrow or fear in them. There wasn't even gray. Her eyes were entirely golden and now they were glowing. Her Shadow armor, which once merely repelled light, now seemed to swallow all the light in the room. When she picked up her weapons, she lashed out at the vampires and there was some dark energy that extended from them.

Every evil creature that came near her was rebuffed, as though they could not touch her. She could not kill them with her swords, but she hacked them apart with unreal strength, body moving with a grace and speed no mortal could possess. By the time the others started to notice her change, she had charged Bodhi, and the last of the vampire opposition was being staked.

Bodhi and Jayda exchanged strikes and blows, but the vampire was being pushed back. After a moment, it became clear to anyone watching that a game was being played—a game of cat and mouse, and Bodhi was not the cat. When the realization was evident on her face, she began to slap away from Jayda, but every time her fist came up, Jayda batted her arm away and punched her hard with the hilt of her dagger.

Bodhi finally landed a strike on Jayda's face, placing three open slices across her cheek, and squirmed away to survey the room. Her allies lay dead, blood pools black and useless to her, and Jayda kept stalking toward her. The cuts on her face magically closed up, smoky red fingers snaking out of the wounds and dissipating as they healed.

Jaheira winced on the ground, the expression on her face giving away her pain. She tried to pull herself toward Jayda but Haer'dalis knelt down beside her, holding her still.

"Don't… let her… do this…" the druid murmured.

"Perhaps it is the only way," the bard told her with regret in his voice.

"No! No!" Bodhi screamed, backing up toward the edge of the central pool. "No! This life is mine! This life is _mine_!"

Then something happened that caused everyone to flinch back in shock. Jayda teleported. She picked Bodhi up off the ground by her throat and turned her so her back was pressed against Jayda's chest, arm sliding under the vampire's jaw until her chin resided in the crook of her elbow. There, in her black Shadow armor, with her blood-red hair and glowing eyes, Jayda looked like an agent of death.

"My brother told me I would be renewed," Bodhi said in a fear-filled rasp, choking and gasping as she struggled uselessly. Blood dripped out of her wide-eyed eyes. "He told me I would be invincible!"

Jayda grinned as, from the neck down, the vampire wiggled and writhed, but her grip was like iron on the gray woman's jaw. She pressed her lips to Bodhi's ear, golden eyes shimmering with rage and power.

"_My_ brother told me killing is our father's work," she whispered. "Embrace it." And then she ripped the dagger over the vampire's throat, back and forth, with such force that she nearly sawed her head off. The body seized uncontrollably as blood gurgled out of her open throat. Jayda released her and everyone watched as the convulsing form of Bodhi slipped into the black pool and disappeared under the glassy surface.

Jayda whirled around and marched straight into one of the back rooms. An ornate coffin was held upright. Jayda threw open the top of it. Inside was a fading form of Bodhi, eyes closed, body transparent—except for her heart. Her beating, black heart was as solid and real as the rest of them. Jayda ripped a stake off of her belt and rammed it into Bodhi's heart. A surge of energy rocketed across the room.

Imoen screamed when she was hit by the blast, thrown onto the ground in a fit of agony. She wallowed in the blood, kicking and clawing across the wet ground as Minsc rushed to help her. Then, she was gasping and sitting up.

"My soul," she sputtered. "My soul… it's back. I'm whole again." She twisted in the ranger's arms, gulping for air. "I feel it… I'm alive… I'm returned… Jayda? Jayda!"

Gaelan, a frown on his brow, looked up and saw Jayda gliding into another room, seemingly unaware of her sister's cries for her. He went to follow her, noticing several of the others did as well.

"Jayda," Jaheira called, scrambling to her feet and sliding into the room, still hunched over in pain.

Inside, Anomen lay on an altar, the blood drained from his face. Jayda reached out to touch him, gently examining him. Everyone waited in breathless silence to know if he was dead or if there was still hope for him.

"He's weak," Jayda whispered. "Dying…" And then she stretched her hand over his plated chest. "I can help him. I can reach him."

"Jayda, no!" Jaheira cried, stumbling into the room. "Don't touch him. Don't release that!"

But Jayda heard none of the druid's protests. In a split second, Jaheira was on the ground again, holding her stomach, and screaming in agony as the two present knights scrambled for the altar. Gaelan rushed up beside Jayda and drew her hands into his, turned her so she faced him.

"Jayda!" he exclaimed, holding her tight and close. Her eyes flared for a moment. Then, she must have recognized him, because the glow vanished. "Jayda, listen to me! It's over. You can come down now. It's over." The gold slowly diminished until he could see the gray again, and she gasped, clutching his shoulders tightly. He stroked her bloody face. "It's okay."

Jaheira's arms dropped to the ground in exhaustion, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Apparently, whatever Jayda had been doing had been harming the druid as well, for now that she had come out of her murderous trance, the agonizing pain that brought Jaheira to the ground seemed to ebb.

Jayda looked at Jaheira gasping on the ground and then at Anomen's pale and still body. She looked at her own trembling hands and blanched at some idea that passed through her head.

"D-did I?" she whispered.

"No," Jaheira answered her. "No…"

"He's alive," one of the knights declared. "Anomen's alive!

"Quick, we must take him to the Prelate!" another exclaimed, hoisting his shoulders up as the other went to take his feet. "Out of the way!"

Jayda stumbled after them, concern wrinkling her brow, until Imoen called to her and drew her attention to the gore on the ground. She ran to her sister's side and dropped to her knees. Haer'dalis withdrew to tend to Aerie.

"Are you okay?" Jayda whispered, clutching the pink-haired girl's cheeks.

"I'm okay," she replied with a smile.

"Your soul?"

Imoen nodded and patted Jayda's hands reassuringly. "My soul," she agreed, and fresh tears made streaks down her face. Jayda pulled her into a tight hug.

Gaelan watched silently, feeling the true weight of her burdens for the first time since he met her. Before, her troubles had always been revealed to him through her own tears and stories, or in watching her struggle to sail away and rescue her friend. This time, he saw the wounds for himself. The blood—the whole place was covered in blood. She had been someone more—something more. He was able to bring her back, but he could see the change that had taken place.

Somehow, it didn't matter. Somehow, it didn't scare him. Somehow, knowing the truth impressed him, made him want to know more. Watching her curled up on the floor hugging her sister, crying with relief, made him love her that much more.

* * *

**A/N:** I actually meant to introduce the Fire Tooth in Ust Natha... went to find it in game, couldn't find the bloody merchant... forgot... and saw my note to incorporate it as I was writing this chapter. _


	42. Bhaal's Heir

**A/N: **This chapter was so hard for me to get through. I'm not entirely sure why, but my mind was muddy all the way through. The story is winding to a close. Only a few chapters left... so I hope to get them written and published soon. I've also been sick, as has pretty much everyone in my apartment, haha, so that has had an effect as well. Anyway, sorry for the delay!

* * *

**Bhaal's Heir**

As far as she could see, there was a dead valley and a dark sky with rolling gray clouds. Hollow wisps of black smoke lined the side of the road and shadows of men hovered near her, taking form and then dissolving into the stale air over and over again, silently stalking her as she walked.

"…the potential within…" a voice hissed. It was a distant whisper, so faint that it could have been the wail of the wind. "Why do you cringe from it?"

"Irenicus?" she called and her voice echoed in the endless valley. The wisps around her threw up their smoky arms, mouths gaping black holes as their eyes tilted toward the threatening sky. Soundless moans filled the air as they quivered and flailed.

"Accept the gifts of your blood," the voice said again, and she saw the shadow of Irenicus manifest before her, sliding across her path before he disappeared again. "Accept them for no other reason than to save the weak that fell because of you."

No. Never. She would never accept Bhaal's blood. She would deny it with her last breath. So she ran, ran as fast as she could, ran from the shadows and the wailing chorus of the wisps so terrible in its silence. And as she ran, she felt the ground tremble violently as thunderous footsteps raced after her. A creature shrieked and roared with a voice straight out of the Nine Hells. She dared not look back. It was close, it was monstrously large, she would surely be caught if she looked back.

She slipped on something slick and nearly tumbled over an edge and into a chasm. As she swung her arms wide and struggled to catch her balance, she found herself staring down into a pool of blood. Bodhi's black eyes and dead expression stared up at her, bobbing just above the surface. She grimaced and stepped away, blood sticking to her bare feet. Her steps were suddenly heavy, body moving as though she walked through muck. When she looked around, there was blood everywhere. Body parts littered the ground. She heard the panting gasps of ghosts but they were invisible to her naked eye.

"Bow, worm, and pray to Cyric!" an old man shrieked at her, but she saw no face. Anger bloomed inside of her at the name. "Cast aside whatever false god you pray to!" She roiled, blood quickening beneath her skin as she stumbled through the sticky blood. Adrenaline shuddered through her body, limbs trembling in rage. "Embrace the Prince of Lies!"

"Never!" she screamed defiantly, sweeping her arm out as though she held a knife, spinning as though to lop the head off of the blasphemer, this mad Cleric of Cyric. She had murdered one, she'd murder them all! Hatred flooded her as she attacked—hatred fueling vengeance, vengeance taken in her father's name!

Her strike hit home and the cleric's face splintered into a thousand slivers as she struck glass, realizing she stood before a mirror, staring at her own naked reflection. Beneath her skin, bright embers burned with glorious fire and her flesh glowed with radiant fury. Her eyes were blazing amber gems, hot with power.

_The blood of the gods runs through your veins!_ The words of Gorion's letter flashed before her eyes, pulsed inside her mind, were even a whisper in her ear. As she stood there and stared at herself in the cracked mirror—stared at how magnificent and terrifying and beautiful she was—she saw the hulking form of the Slayer appear behind her like a great shadow rising from the dust of the earth. He towered over her, body curling over hers in a protective huddle. He breathed in heavy, short snorts through his nostrils, amber eyes locked onto hers. There was almost something peaceful about it…

And then the Slayer screamed, throwing out his clawed hands. He roared at the mirror, clawed at the air, pounded the earth, and shrieked in horrifying panic. That's when the pain rocked through her. She took a labored breath and stared at the sword in the center of her chest, watched the embers and fire drain out of her. She struggled to breathe as Irenicus was filled with her power, filled with her fire. He laughed and withdrew the blade, laughed and watched as she collapsed. She was empty, cold, hollow—like the wisps she had left behind on the road. She curled up, shivering, afraid. He knelt down in front of her, lowered his lips to her ear.

"You will wither… you will wane… and you will die," he told her quietly.

She hadn't the strength to argue, to defy him. There was a soft chuckle in her ear, hot breath that tickled her skin as she watched Irenicus walk away. Who was whispering to her? She looked but saw no one. Not even the Slayer. She heard a scream and found Irenicus again with Imoen in his grasp. She tried to scream but she had no voice. She tried to stand, tried to call upon the embers, but they were gone! There was a flash of light and Minsc roared in pain. She called out again, clawed the earth, tried to move, violently kicked, but every shout of her friends' agony only mocked her desperate struggle.

"Help me!" she cried, and when she looked down, her arms were black and her fingers were talons. She did not move on her own. The beast moved for her. The beast tore her enemies from limb to limb. She could not stop herself, even when the Slayer's bloodlust turned on her loved ones, but her enemies had been vanquished. "No!" she screamed when the Slayer lunged for Gaelan.

And then she was in the darkness again, naked and cold and empty. Blood was wet on her hands and arms and legs. She stared down at the slate flagstones beneath her toes, watched a pool of red form as droplets dripped off her flesh and spattered by her feet. Thunder rumbled, dark clouds rolled overhead, and wind blew. She stood on the top of an impossibly tall tower, and a dark shape moved behind her.

_The blood of the gods runs through your veins!_

"You're empty," he said, the same voice that had laughed in her ear. "You're incomplete. The power you wield now cannot be contained. It will break you." She turned around and around, trying to look upon his face, but he was always behind her, a dark shadow in her peripherals, forever out of reach. "Without your soul, you are just a doll to be manipulated. Incomplete, you will never have control. You are unfinished. You deny who you are, but you never knew what you were to deny it." She went still, rigid in fear. "You scramble blindly through mortality to your doom, and you are unmade. But you cannot run from me forever."

His body was suddenly pressed up against her back. There was a face in her hair, lips against her skin. She shivered, feeling the icy fingers of terror climbing through her skin. She had never seen her stalker's face, but she had never seen _his_ face either. Her father's face. And yet she knew him. She knew his presence like she knew the hatred in her bones. And he was there with her now.

"You know now, don't you?" he whispered. "You know who you are." She felt him grin as he pressed his mouth flush with her ear. "My heir."

"No," she heard herself say then she turned around. Sarevok patrolled the perimeter of the tower top they stood upon, greatsword slung over his armored shoulder. Even without his terrifying helmet, his platemail was sinister and imposing.

"I can teach you," he said. "You can control the taint." He paced behind her and she stood still, hands curling into fists. Her memories were coming to life. She looked down at herself and saw the old, tattered armor she'd worn that day. "I can teach you." Sarevok nestled his face next to hers. "Think of me," he murmured against her cheek and walked on. When he stood in front of her again, he lifted his sword and pointed it at her, eyes gleaming in the darkness. Lightning exploded in the sky and in his eyes, lighting them up with hatred and malice. "Think of me. Think of how I destroyed your precious Gorion!"

_A sword flashed in the moonlight and blood splashed the wet earth. Gorion gave a shout of pain as the sword pierced his back and stuck out through his chest. The arm that stabbed him was so strong, Gorion was lifted off the ground with the steel. She screamed for him, but the thunder drowned her cries._

"It should have been I," Sarevok growled at her, lifting his weapon. "It should have been I!"

"I don't want it!" she shrieked as she brought her sword and dagger up to parry his swing.

They fought in a blaze of fury, two children of Bhaal clashing in violent wrath. She followed the familiar steps she had taken so long ago when she and Sarevok had collided in combat the first time. It had been storming then, too, and energy crackled around them then like it did now. She felt _his_ presence once more, watching from the sidelines, from above, from all around them. She felt it in her bones and she knew Sarevok felt it, too. Bhaal, father… he was so proud.

Her sword ripped through his armor and bit flesh, her dagger immediately seeking the depths of his chest. Sarevok gasped and sank onto the wet flagstones. Bhaal laid his hand on her shoulder, congratulating her, praising her as she stared down at her brother and watched his face grow pale as blood leaked out of him, pooling beneath his limp body. She sank to her knees and stared, his gaze dead-locked on hers, and watched the life leave his eyes. For the first time since he had ripped her open with his hooked blade, she felt a kinship with this man.

He was her _brother_, and she had killed him. Killed him for her own survival, for revenge for Gorion's murder, for the liberation of Baldur's Gate, for her father. She had killed him for her father! Her chest constricted painfully and she clutched at her breast and opened her mouth to gasp for breath, but a strangled cry raked out of her throat. And she cried for him.

_The blood of the gods runs through your veins!_

As she sobbed over her dead brother's body a second time, she suddenly knew that she could never have run far enough. Running away had not prevented her from murdering in her father's name, had not prevented Irenicus from taking her soul, had not prevented the Slayer from taking control. Running away would not stop her friends from dying, would not stop Irenicus from destroying the elves, would not stop Bhaal from crowning her his heir.

But she could not become Sarevok, a misguided godchild who had sought his father's throne and was now dead. She would have to find a new way. But what was the right answer? She saw her friends' faces reflected in Sarevok's lifeless eyes, saw her adventures play out in the dull sheen of his armor. She heard the snorting breaths of the Slayer, spied his reflection in place of hers when she looked at the rainwater and blood pooling beneath her and her brother.

_The blood of the gods runs through your veins!_

She felt the rooftop shrink around her, growing smaller and smaller until she felt on the precipice of two futures, of two versions of herself. In one future, she was wore an obsidian crown and bore the title Lord of Murder. In the other future, she was a weathered skeleton. As she cowered between mortality and darkness, she felt weak and powerless. She gathered her brother's corpse into her arms and hugged it close as she curled into herself. Irenicus stood at the far side of the tower, his armor a mimicry of her brother's greatness. He was just another Sarevok. Their motivations were different, but the result was the same: mass slaughter. She saw far below them the bodies piling higher and higher, creating a stairway of flesh. His power grew with every kill, weighing her down, zapping her strength.

_The blood of the gods runs through your veins!_

There was a bitter taste that appeared in her mouth. Her father walked up behind her, his silhouette a shadow reflected on Sarevok's armor. He had found her and he would not let her go. That was the feeling that crept up her spine. She was a child of Bhaal. And a child of Bhaal would be required to defeat Irenicus.

"Don't run from him," her father said. "Don't run from me. I know… who you are."

_He knows who you are!_

...

Jayda screamed and lurched up and Gaelan jumped onto the bed and caught her face between his hands. He had been watching her toss and turn in fitful sleep, but the sudden cry had still startled him. She took deep breaths, as he instructed, and slowly her foggy eyes cleared with understanding. Whatever horrible thing she had seen, it had only been a dream. As her breathing slowly calmed, he brushed the hair from her face, noting how it stuck to her skin with sweat, and waited for her to completely relax, though it did nothing for her pallor.

She looked terrible, weak and haggard. Her light complexion was pale now, and blue veins could be seen crawling beneath her skin. Her gray eyes were almost completely gold and rimmed in black. The dark circles around her eyes had become wider and darker, and he feared what her stunt in Bodhi's lair had cost her. Jaheira had tried to use magic to restore her, but the relief was temporal and soon enough she was back to panting, even when she was standing still, and looking near-death.

After a few healing spells and not even a day of rest, Aerie had been awake and back to normal. Anomen, however, had been locked away with the Prelate day and night. They were told they would be informed immediately should his condition worsen or improve. Imoen had collapsed after that, snoring louder than most the burly drunks Gaelan saw in the streets outside the Copper Coronet, and Minsc had to take her back to her room. She needed the rest, Jaheira said, now that her soul had returned to her. Jayda, however, had passed out shortly learning of Aerie's recovery, and Gaelan had been pacing and cat-napping for a whole day waiting for her fever to break.

He touched her forehead and was relieved to feel her skin was not longer burning so hot. He gently laid her back on the bed, dipped a cloth in cold water, and folded it over her head. When he had inquired as to the nature of her illness, Jaheira had been baffled. She had explained that this had never happened to her before, so he treated it like any other fever and hoped for the best. Jaheira had been very devoted to using her nature magic to try and heal her, but Jayda's body seemed to reject every kind of treatment. Until now.

"How ye feeling?" he asked.

"What happened?" she mumbled, voice hoarse and quiet. "What did I…"

"Ye killed Bodhi with some kind of magic, but ye were in some kind of trace. When I brought ye out, ye got real worse for wear and then collapsed with fever. Ye been down a day, but ye fever's broke."

Jayda bit her lower lip and frowned. "I shouldn't have tried to use the power without my soul," she said. "I'm empty. I can't channel it. The power will destroy me, so it seems." She looked at him pointedly but her brows were wrinkled with distress. "Gaelan, I have to tell you something. I'm dying."

"What do ye mean ye dying?" he blurted, heart suddenly pounding. "Ye fine. Ye fever broke."

"Without my soul, I'm slowly dying," she admitted.

"Then we just get it back," he said, managing to sound much more calm and in control than he felt. "How long?"

"I don't know." She bit her lip again. "Do you want me to go?"

"No." He frowned. "Why ye askin' me that?"

"You saw what I became, what I did. You know my fate." Her lips pressed together tightly to hide the tremble but he saw it. Was she worried that he somehow thought less of her now? That what he'd witnessed had changed his feelings for her? "I wouldn't blame you…"

"Jayda," he began and scooped her into his arms. "Shut up. I don't wanna hear ye say anythin' of the sort. If I ever fear ye, ever hate ye, ever don't wanna be with ye, I'll be the one to say it. Stop second-guessin' others when ye full to the brim with real problems to contend with. I told ye the truth when I said I wanted to be with ye, and I stand by it now as sure as I did then."

He felt her arms wrap around him and cling tight to his shirt. Her body shook with sobs and her tears wet his shoulder. He thought back to the first day he met her. He knew she was a Bhaalspawn even then, but to him she was just a red-headed half-elf with dirt and dust smudged on her face and tired circles under her eyes, beautiful even in her exhaustion. She was a haggard rogue out of her territory. As the burden of her identity plagued his conscience and her mission drove a wedge between them, he had realized that she was so much more than a Bhaalspawn and a half-elf and a rogue, so he denied that thing she truly was with every fiber of his being—a woman he loved. He loved her. Admitting it was the hard part. Everything else seemed simple and clear.

"Gaelan," she sniffled, pressing her face deeper into her shoulder. "Even if I've lost my soul… as long as you have my heart, I know I'll be okay…"

Gaelan curled his fingers into her hair and frowned, feeling his heart swell with both joy and pain, pride and sympathy. Part of him wanted to tell her again how much he loved her, to vow to protect her. Another part of him wanted to playfully tell her to stop giving away so many parts of herself. Mostly, he was just overwhelmed to know how she felt. So he didn't say anything, only held her until they both fell asleep.

/

It was three days before Jayda had recovered. Her skin had lost its translucency and, though she was still pale, the veins were hidden once more. She had recovered her strength and endurance, and even her sense of humor. There was little to laugh about, but Gaelan had managed to pull some genuine smiles out of her. Otherwise, she had taken to exercising and was in the middle of sit-ups when Jaheira and Haer'dalis had walked in on her.

"Where's Imoen?" she asked, eyeing the two of them. They both looked serious.

"Minsc has taken her and Aerie to the Promenade to visit with Aerie's uncle Quayle," Jaheira replied.

Jayda finished her count of sit-ups and stood, wiping her brow with a towel. Gaelan was behind her at his desk, ordering his affairs before he could leave Amn. He glanced at her when she looked back at him, and offered her a quick grin.

"Jayda, now that you've recovered, we should be moving on," Jaheira said.

"No. Not until Anomen is better."

"That could be weeks. Months, even. We have an obligation to the elves. The longer we let Irenicus wreak havoc on Suldanessellar, the more we will have to contend with when we face him."

Jayda knew she was right, but she didn't want to leave without knowing Anomen was okay. She stood there lamely, staring at the floor. She hated herself for hesitating, but it had been her strict policy not to leave anyone behind, not if she could help it. Anomen would be in no shape to travel for awhile, she knew, and her stubbornness to know his fate was all that kept her rooted.

"You're right," she mumbled, patting the sweat from her forehead with the towel. "We leave in the morning."

"A weighty decision," Haer'dalis began, "but the right one. This foul wizard will burn the city to the ground and raze the elven nation. It is our duty to see this through. If not for them, for your soul."

"If not for them," she echoed bitterly. "Do you think anything they do is for us? For my soul? They begged my help out of their own helplessness, because they had no one else to turn to. Was there another way inside the city? Perhaps if I had merely walked up to it and shouted for him, he would've let me in so that he could kill me himself."

"Do not let yourself grow bitter," the druid warned her. "How you're feeling now is how you felt before, in Elhan's camp. This isn't you."

"How do you know it's not me?" Jayda retorted. "I've spent my life running here and there, doing this and that, always serving someone else, serving the greater good. It's not that I wouldn't help, it's just… I have something I must do! I always have! But it never matters. And now here we are once again set to the impossible task…" She sighed. "Our own as well as theirs."

"It is not impossible, raven," Haer'dalis said softly. "Irenicus will pay for what he's done."

"And how do you propose we do it?" Jaheira asked and looked seriously at Jayda. "By becoming the Slayer again? Or will you tap into your power and destroy him like you destroyed Bodhi? You do and you destroy yourself, too."

When she became the Slayer, all of her latent and available power was channeled in the beast. If she used the power without transforming, her body couldn't harness it, not without her soul, at any rate. That was how her father had explained it in her dream and, dream or not, it had been truth—she could sense it. Without her soul, she had only one weapon to fight Irenicus with: the Slayer. But she was afraid of the Slayer—the Slayer that took control of her whenever she snapped, the Slayer that was lurking beneath her skin, unchained by the loss of her soul, waiting to rear up and protect her and murder and destroy. Every time she had started to feel the stress of the world, she felt the Slayer slithering inside, like a great snake unfurling to strike. But to become the Slayer was to become more like Sarevok, to become Bhaal. She couldn't let that happen.

She had always tried to do the right thing, and as long as she could prevent herself from becoming her brother, she couldn't regret her choices. She _was_ a child of Bhaal. And she had Jaheira and Minsc and Gaelan and all the rest of her friends to stop her should she lose herself to that truth. She was dying, but she wasn't fighting alone. Irenicus was powerful, however. He had doubled—tripled his power with a stolen divine soul, and she knew there was little that could be done to challenge him if she didn't look for strength in her blood. Her or her friends? The choice was easy.

"Maybe," Jayda agreed. "And maybe it's the only way."

"There is never only one way. Do not do this, Jayda. Do not look for Bhaal in your blood. I saw what became of you and that is not who you want to become."

"Ah, my murderous raven, 'twas both terrifying and exhilarating to witness such bloodlust from a woman of your parentage," Haer'dalis chimed. "Though I was most impressed by your strength and control, even as the chaos became you."

"This isn't a song!" the druid snapped. "This is her life, bard!"

"Aye, my life," Jayda agreed. "This isn't about what I want anymore. It's about what I must do. I do not want my soul back, but I must have it. I do not want to use the power—to acknowledge Bhaal exists within me, but he _does_." She sighed. "Irenicus' power is great. We must have great power if we're to stop him."

Jaheira seemed exceptionally uncomfortable by the idea and shuffled from foot to foot as though torn between two ideas. "I promised Gorion," she stammered, and it was the first time Jayda had ever seen her losing composure. "I promised Khalid."

"Gods damn it, Jaheira, why are you making it so hard?"

"You saw what happened to her!" she said, looking over Jayda's shoulder to Gaelan at his desk. "Talk some sense into her! She will die! Don't you know this?"

"Aye, I know it," he replied quietly. "And I don't like it any better than ye do, but she's as stubborn as I am."

"Jaheira," Jayda continued calmly, "if we all die, who stops Irenicus then?"

Jaheira swallowed hard and lifted her chin, mouth set in a straight line. "You're right, of course," she said quietly. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, she nodded and her tense muscles relaxed a little. "Just… do not give in to it so easily. Promise me."

"She is anything but the type to throw her arms in surrender to the barking winds." Haer'dalis tapped his chin. "I have of late pondered this driven nature of yours, this fire that burns so bright behind your eyes, and from where precisely it comes. Given what I know of you and what I've seen of your actions and nature, I've come to believe that it is not wholly a product of this dead-god father of yours. Something inside you does not allow you to give up, regardless of the odds. You fought onward after the murder of your mentor, braved assassins and dark paths that make even this wandering poet shiver to imagine. Few have I met who could drag themselves from a dungeon of horrors with naught but the clothes on their back and survive, never mind _thriving_ as you have."

Jayda shuffled, embarrassed. "I'll do what I always do," she mumbled. "Fight as hard as I can. I won't let Irenicus get away with this."

"Might I suggest," Gaelan said, getting up and coming around to the front of the desk, "that ye leave the little one behind?"

"Little one?" Jaheira repeated.

"Aye, Imoen. Seems to me, she just got her soul back and all. Would be a shame to lose it again, to become captive once more should things take a turn for the worst."

"You think Irenicus would try to steal her soul again?" Jaheira asked. Gaelan shrugged.

"Two souls be better than one?" he suggested.

"She did not like it when I sought to leave her before," the druid mumbled. "She will not approve of this, though I must say that I agree."

There was a sudden knock on the door and Gaelan called that it was open. A young boy hurried inside, dripping sweat into his crimson tunic, the symbol of the order emblazoned in gold on the left breast.

"My lords and ladies, Sir Anomen is awake!" he puffed, gasping for breath.

The four of them sprinted past the panting squire, leaving him to lock up and trudge after them. Jayda barely remembered the run to the Temple District. She did not remember crossing the Bridge District or skidding around the stately structures in the Government District. She did not even remember racing down the white streets or passing by the Temple of Talos. She was suddenly standing in front of the Radiant Heart's hall, heart pounding, wondering what she would even say to Anomen.

Awash with a strange numbness in her mind and an anxious tingle in her limbs, she quietly followed her friends into the building, up two flights of stairs, and through the narrow halls to Anomen's appointed room. The knight that had ushered them there excused himself and then Jaheira and Haer'dalis looked at her expectantly.

"You go ahead," she said. "I'll wait."

"Are you sure?" Haer'dalis asked her and she nodded.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Once they were inside with the door closed, she put her head against the wall and sighed, then took to pacing when her nerves taunted her limbs into motion. How could she face him after what Bodhi had done to him? After what she had become to revenge him, after what she had almost done to try to save him. If she had touched him with the taint, he would have been lost forever. How was she going to tell him that she was leaving the next morning? Or that Saerk was responsible for his sister's death after all?

"Nervous?" Gaelan asked.

"A bit."

"Why?"

"What should I say to him? What happened to him was… awful. And it was my fault. I was too cocky."

"It's not ye fault. Stop blaming yeself."

Jayda chewed her lip, sighed, and then chewed some more. "I just keep thinking about what you said. 'What will he believe in after the godblood gets through with him?' You were right."

"Ye know why I said it."

"I know why… but the why doesn't matter, only the outcome. I took him with me, took him into the torments and torture, and then delivered him into Bodhi's sick hands."

"Do ye think he blames ye, then?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, but she did. She sighed. "No. He wouldn't." She tried to smile for him. "Counsel me, Gaelan. Do I tell a man just come back from death's grip that his sister's murderer has a name and there's proof against him? Or do I let the burden fall to someone else when he is stronger?"

"A man deserves to know the truth," he replied. "Give him the credit he deserves. Tell him honestly. It should come from ye since ye were the one to share the burden, to search for answers."

"You found them."

"I didn't do it for him," he told her for the second time. The look he gave her melted her on the inside. She could trace desire in his eyes as they darkened and focused on her. "I don't know much about ye friends, to be honest—aside from observations and stories—but one thing I do know: the weak couldn't ever keep up with ye. It takes a certain character to walk this road, and the knightlin' did. He's as strong as the rest of ye merry band, and I think he's proved it. Don't think less of him by handlin' him like ye would glass."

"I don't think less of him—"

"Ye do if ye think he couldn't take it. Wasn't he always honest with ye, even when it meant his own heart would break? Ye owe him as much." He cleared the distance between them and grasped her shoulders. "Believe in the people around ye, Jayda," he whispered. "Some will let ye down, some will betray ye, but most of 'em will pull you out of quicksand. Ye'll drown on ye own. Ye drownin' _now_." His thumb stroked the skin beneath her eye. "Believe in us."

The door opened, startling her. Gaelan's hands dropped back to his sides and she instantly missed the touch. All of her friends were trying so hard to support her but the turmoil inside was brewing. Between their words and Bhaal's whispers and the proof of power she had seen in Bodhi, she was terrified of everything, and oddly numb to the fear. It didn't make sense. Nothing was making sense. But when Gaelan was holding her like that, staring into her eyes so intensely that she couldn't look anywhere else, she could almost find clarity. For a brief moment, she could see everything—all of the answers. It was a sensation she used to experience when she still had her soul, when the anger overwhelmed her. In the rage, everything became clear. Funny now that such a peaceful touch could do the same.

Jaheira and Haer'dalis walked out and Jayda slipped inside. Anomen was lying on a bed looking as white as the sheets that covered him. He was propped up on fluffy pillows, his dark hair mussed from bed-rest, and a bright smile lit up his tired face when he saw her.

"Jayda," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you're _alive_," she retorted with a smile and sat on the bed. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, Anomen. I'm so sorry I wasn't there fast enough."

"Don't be sorry. There was nothing you could have done. She grabbed me on my way to the Copper Coronet. The attack came out of nowhere. By the time I regained my senses, I was already her prisoner."

There was a flicker of pain in his eyes and Jayda looked away. She knew the tortures Irenicus was capable of. Bodhi was an apple that did not fall far from the tree. She knew the torments he had endured even without him speaking of them. They sat in choking silence until she finally got up the nerve to speak again.

"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly, meeting his eyes once more. He was searching her, looking for something within. She didn't know what until he answered her.

"I feel as though I turned into the Slayer and siphoned the life-force right out of my body."

Jayda frowned. "Who told you?"

"The other knights. Are you all right?"

"Don't ask me that when you're the one bedridden. I'm fine."

"So am I. The healers say I am getting stronger every day." He smiled. "I'll be ready to face Irenicus before you know it."

"Not this time," she said. "We're leaving in the morning. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I want to be there to help you."

"I want you there," she assured him, patting the top of his hand. "But we can't wait. It could be weeks before you're out of bed, and the elves need us now. The longer we delay, the more people die."

"I understand," Anomen mumbled but it was clear he did not like it. "Do you have a plan?"

"To fight and die, my friend." She grinned. "What else?"

"To fight and _live_."

"Ah, yes, of course," she joked. And then her smile faded for the serious thing she needed to say to him. "If I don't come back, Anomen… I want you to know that it has been an honor." She grasped his hand and held it tightly. "You're a good man. Carry the light and the truth in your heart and bring justice to those who need it. I'm so glad I got to know you, my dear friend. I'm so grateful that you were with me through everything."

"You'll come back," he said seriously. "You're strong, and so is your heart."

"I don't feel strong. Not strong enough."

"Perhaps not. But that won't stop you. You're brave. You're the most courageous person I've ever known, and it inspired me. It inspires me still."

"Courage doesn't win battles, Anomen, only keeps people in the fight."

"I disagree." He smiled again. "Do you know the Order's motto?" She shook her head. "'The courage of one can change the destiny of many.' Your actions will save more than you know. You look around you and see only darkness, but just because you cannot see the light does not mean it isn't there. I know it's there. I've been watching it ever since I bumped into you at the Copper Coronet all those months ago."

"Anomen—"

"You have every right to be afraid. I can see how it's consuming you. This burden weighs you down more and more every day. It would be unfair to expect you to persevere as though nothing is wrong. No one will blame you if you need to scream."

"I would," she admitted wryly. "I have to be strong for me. But enough of that now."

"Did you find your thief?" he asked suddenly, throwing her off guard.

"I did," she answered after awhile. "He… understood."

"I knew he would. And how does he feel?"

She fidgeted with her sleeves. "He is coming with me."

"I see." He smiled and looked at the ceiling. "I am glad to have such a worthy replacement."

"It isn't like that—"

"I jest," he interrupted her. "I am happy for you, my lady. Truly."

"Thank you. There's something more important you should know." She got up, went to the door, and motioned Gaelan inside. "You should be the one to tell him."

"Glad to see ye not dead," Gaelan began as he sauntered over to the bed, "though I was hopin' to be out of a fight."

"I'm in no condition to see to your demise, thief, so fight hard for her and consider ours settled," he replied.

"I'd complain of gettin' off too easy, but it's a thief's nature to take what he didn't earn." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "There's somethin' ye should know, then. Seems Saerk was the bastard that killed ye little sister. I have the proof."

Anomen sat very still and very silent for a long while, his face a myriad of pain and misery, acceptance and relief. While sometimes a burden and sometimes hurtful, truth was freedom. Finally, he looked Gaelan in the eye.

"You discovered this?" he asked and the thief nodded. "Thank you. I… do not know what to say except… thank you." There were tears in his eyes but none fell. "My father was right after all…"

"No," Jayda said quickly. "No, you're father was wrong. There was no proof back then, and vengeance is not the Order's way. _You_ chose the right of it, Anomen. And now the law you hold in such high esteem will bring Moira's murderer to justice."

"Yes," he agreed, leaning back into his pillows. His eyes slipped closed but his face was a bundle of tension. "Thank you for telling me."

/

The breeze was gentle on one of the last summer nights before the winter came. Gaelan and Renal sat on the roof of the Copper Coronet and stared out over the Slums at the glistening city in the distance. A jug of whiskey sat between them, keeping their glasses full, as they slowly descended into drunken banter on what was their last night together for a good long while.

"I still can't believe you're leaving it all behind," Renal said after they had finished reminiscing on one of their earlier adventures.

"Leavin' what behind exactly?" Gaelan asked. "I'm comin' back, ye know, or did ye miss that part?"

"I heard you, but what we plan and what we do are often very different." He sighed. "It's strange to see you this way—and yet the more I think of your character, the less strange it is."

"That makes no sense."

"I mean I have never seen you so devoted to another person before. After all these years of your interest in romance beginning and ending in the bedroom, you pick the most dangerous, mysterious, and elusive woman to walk into town to fall in love with."

"I didn't exactly _pick_ her like ye say. Pickin' implies consideration and choice, neither of which were part of me process. Believe me, a Slum-tart would be easier to handle and less of a worry, but I don't see other women since she came into me life—which should physically be impossible, yet that's the truth of it."

"Tell me about it."

"About what exactly?" Gaelan asked, eyeing him. Renal had been trying to pry details out of him for quite some time. Before Jayda left, he was too guarded of his own feelings to delve into it. After she left, he was too worried and heartsick to talk.

"Her." Renal smiled. "Why her?"

"She's… a little like me," he said honestly, remembering how their bodies shared the scars of hardships. "It takes a lot to weigh her down—godblood and stolen souls and other untoward circumstances of similar nature. She's strong in her heart and her head, quick on her feet and mind. And her smile…"

Renal smirked at him. "What of it?"

"She blushes like a maid when I tease her. Ah, but when I conquer her southern fortress, she moans like a—" He stopped himself, realizing he was about to compare her sexual prowess to a whore's, and he couldn't think of her that way.

"Don't stop there," his friend laughed. "We've all been wondering at the details."

"That's all ye get. She's beautiful—all of her—and satisfies every hard pursuit. Mask, but she is flexible." He eyed Renal. "I'm a thief, but never the gold made me greedy, only her."

"And now you speak like the fool you are." He laughed and raised his glass of whiskey in salute. "Welcome to the club."

"Aye." And they clicked their glasses together and drank. He no longer felt the burn of alcohol down his throat, only felt the warmth spreading from the hot pit in his stomach. "She's like fire," he mumbled. "Dangerous and warm and bright. I can't help but be drawn to her. And I've watched her burn through the rain, wonderin' if anythin' could ever put her out."

"Have you ever wondered 'why me?'"

"Haven't ye heard?" Gaelan asked with a grin. "I'm quite the catch."

"Yes, the Lord of the Slums is still a lord, is that right?"

Gaelan laughed and nodded. He fingered his glass, staring at the swirl of amber liquor before nodding at the silence. "All the time," he finally confessed.

"Did she ever tell you why?"

"She once told me that when she's with me… she's just another thief in the night." He chuckled. "I thought that couldn't be a good thing. A woman like her would want a knight like Anomen, right? Turns out, to be a thief in the night is just what she wants in her hectic, destiny-riddled life."

"Yes, well you don't see people's roles, Gaelan, only people." He poured himself another glass. "I heard she didn't fare so well after killing Bodhi."

"She's fine."

"I heard she picked her up with one hand and cut her head off."

"Almost. Almost cut her head off." Gaelan eyed his friend. "What's ye point?"

"Are you at all worried what will happen to you when you face this wizard she's after, or what will happen to her?"

"I am, but it does little good to dwell on it now." When Renal opened his mouth to persist, Gaelan raised his hand to cut him off. He had no intention of discussing his fears when he had to concentrate on his hopes. "It's not on the table, ay? I'm comin' back. We both are. And ye'll have a guildmaster to run that house of yers, have no doubt."

"I'm sure you have every intention of having an active hand in it."

"Was that ye sneak way of gettin' me involved again? Advisin' is all the hand I be plannin' to have. She makes up her own mind easy enough."

"That much I do know." Renal exhaled a deep breath and took a sip of his drink. "I will miss you, my friend."

"Aye." He reached over and knocked his glass with his friend's tumbler. Truth be told, he would miss him, too. Long years of friendship were not easily set aside, and the possibility that he may never see Renal again made him more than a little sad. _Ye will_, he reminded himself. "Aye," he said again. "I'll drink to that."

...

Below the drinking thieves, Imoen and Jayda sat on her bed in the mage girl's room, reminiscing on the past. Jayda was amazed at how much happier and complete Imoen was. She wasn't quite her old self again, but she was close. And as she sat there with her legs tucked into her body, toying with Jayda's hair, she almost made Jayda feel like they were young girls in Candlekeep again.

"And I never woulda guessed Puff-guts would react like that!" Imoen chirped. "But there he was, swingin' his butcher's blade and screamin', 'Back to th' barn! Back to th' barn, you fells! Fire! Acid! Fire! Fiiiiiii-urrrrrrrrr!' I laughed so hard I fell off the roof an' landed right in the drip-bucket. I thought he might skin _me_ alive after he realized what was going on."

Jayda shook her head, a faint smile on her mouth. Imoen's involvement in mischievous antics had usually been at the whim of someone else, but she came into her prankster side only a few years before they left Candlekeep and had managed to accumulate a wealth of stories in such a short time.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked, drawing Jayda out of her thoughts. "You been real quiet."

"Immy, there's something I want you to do."

"Sure thing. Whatcha want?" Imoen bounced back on the bed so Jayda could turn and face her. "Oh, that face. Serious much? So go on. What's bothering you?"

"I want you to stay behind when we go to face Irenicus."

"No way," she answered instantly. "Not a chance."

"Imoen—"

"And you can't trap me with that 'you said you would' crap. It was an ambush and it doesn't count."

"If things go poorly with Irenicus, he may just decide two divine souls are better than one. You just got your soul back. Losing it again could kill you—at best, leave you as you were before… empty. Don't make yourself an enticing target."

"Do you really think he might try it again?"

"Irenicus wants power. Have you ever heard a story where a power-seeker ever reached a threshold of satisfaction?"

"No…" she mumbled.

"Exactly. I know you want to help, but you can help us best by staying as far away from Suldanessellar as possible. I've sent a bird to Nalia at the D'Arnise Keep north of Athkatla. She'll be expecting you."

"Whose Nalia?"

"A friend of mine—someone who helped me earn the gold to get to you. I want you to go to her, help around the state, and, most importantly, stay safe. If you don't hear from us in a month or two, it's best to assume the worst. Then I want you to get out of Amn and make your way east."

Imoen stared at her for a long time before she spoke. "You really think you'll lose…" Her voice cracked with honest concern.

"I don't know, Immy. I do know that Irenicus is very powerful. He's put out an entire elven city. He is smart and calculating and thorough. It won't be an easy fight."

"You think you may… die? But…" She seemed distressed. "But it's not supposed to be like this. Even when it looked like there was no hope, we still triumphed over Sarevok! When I was alone in that cell at Spellhold, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would die at the hands of that madman! But you came for me! We escaped! You'll beat Irenicus. You _will_."

"Imoen," Jayda shushed her. "Don't ever let one victory make you invulnerable. Every fight is different and we have to fight just as hard for every victory. I have every intention of surviving this battle. But should I not, I need you to be prepared." She waited for Imoen to respond and eventually the girl nodded, despondent as ever. She reached up and held her cheeks in her hands. "I'll miss you, Immy. I love you, little sister. You know that, right?"

"I love you, too. Promise me you'll be careful."

"It's me," Jayda said with a smirk.

"And that's what worries me! There's hardly a place you go without stirring up all sorts of trouble!"

Jayda laughed and began braiding a small section of Imoen's hair. Imoen sat there quietly, pouting, while Jayda soaked in the moment. She couldn't stop smiling, finally finding the peace she had been looking for. She had been through a lot in such a short time, but all of the hardships were the very reason she had such wonderful memories. Without Sarevok, she may have never met Jaheira and Khalid, Minsc and Boo and Dynaheir, or any of the other friends she had made during her adventure to stop her brother. If it weren't for Irenicus, she would never have met Haer'dalis or Anomen or Nalia, and Edwin would never have had a chance to redeem himself. She would never have met Gaelan…

She couldn't be grateful to her enemies, but she couldn't bring herself to look back and regret it. She smiled again and finished tying off Imoen's braid. If she lived, she would be running her own thieves guild house and living with a man she loved very much, surrounded by friends who loved her. If she died, she would die with a flood of warm and happy memories.


	43. The Long and Winding Road

**A/N: WARNING: **Sexual content in this chapter.

* * *

**The Long and Winding Road**

Jayda turned her new blade over in her hands, admiring how beautiful it was as she waited for her companions to join her. The silver blade glistened magically in the faint, first light of dawn. The hilt fit comfortably in her hand and, as she twirled it around, was amazed by how light the weapon was. It was, by far, the nicest weapon she had ever had the privilege to wield.

"It's beautiful," Gaelan said as he joined her.

"Something so fine deserves a name," she agreed, "but I have no idea what to call it."

"Perhaps ye'll come up with somethin' on the road."

"Perhaps." She sheathed it on the hip opposite Fire Tooth as her friends piled out of the Copper Coronet. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Jaheira echoed, glancing back at Imoen who stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. The druid placed her hand on Jayda's shoulder. "It isn't such a good morning for her."

"Be careful," Imoen said, stomping her foot like a child. "Write to me as soon as you kill the bastard. And don't leave me at Nalia's any longer than necessary!"

"You'll like Nalia," Aerie told her. "She's a lovely person."

"I don't want to be with Nalia. I want to be with you all," she protested.

"We will fly to free you as soon as the oppressor lies dead," Haer'dalis promised with a smile.

"You'd better." Imoen looked to Jayda, started to come toward her, and then stopped. Instead, she just extended her arm and gave her a thumbs-up. "Get your soul back, okay?"

"Okay," Jayda replied.

"Come!" Haer'dalis said, clapping his hands. "Let us fly toward new adventures lest they escape whilst we stand about chatter like fools."

"New adventures?" Jaheira asked as they headed away from the inn. "We have far too many things to do to start something else."

"There is always evil requiring butt-kicking with our righteous boots!" Minsc told her.

The group chattered until they were outside of the city and the sun was in the sky. Once they were well into the forest, the talking stopped and they continued on in silence. They walked until sunset without stopping before they made camp and drew watches. Jayda drew first watch and Haer'dalis teased Gaelan that he would keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't try to distract their watch, lest a beast or highwaymen sneak up on them.

Jayda barely managed to hide her smirk when her eyes met Gaelan's. He was grinning, shaking his head, and looking generally harassed that someone would even think such a thing. She had wondered how her companions would get along with him. So far, they had not shunned him but neither did they make him feel overly welcome. He didn't seem bothered by it. His reason for coming with her was to be with her, not them. She hoped that after a tenday of traveling her companions would open up more.

She had also wondered if they would ever have a chance to be alone. Unlikely, but perhaps if they drew early watches they might be able to sneak off for a few hours. She just wanted to be able to be near him and the anxiety to spend as much time with him as possible squirmed in her belly the closer they traveled to Suldanessellar.

She had tried to put on a brave face and smile for everyone, but inside she was getting anxious. Every step closer to Irenicus she took, the more dread filled her. A sense of impending doom hung over her head like a threatening raincloud. She had mostly recovered from the incident with Bodhi, but what she hadn't told her friends was that, inside, she felt emptier than before. Her innards felt jumbled, and there was a constant faint pain in her gut and chest that wore her down on long days. As they powered ahead, she noticed her breath coming in shorter and shorter, body temperature sinking lower and lower.

She could feel the Slayer squirming under her skin even more, writhing impatiently. There was a hint of a whisper in her ears, getting just a little louder every day. When there were people talking and the forest was rustling, she couldn't hear it. But when she was still and all was quiet, it plagued her. Her soul being stolen had left her empty and cold, but it had not stolen her emotions. Not yet. While her condition sought to siphon her hope out of her and drain her care for others' plights, she was still desperate for salvation, still in love with Gaelan, still devoted to her friends.

If she went on much longer soulless, would all of that disappear, too?

/

Three nights later, after her watch, Jayda was heading toward her bedroll when a hand clamped over her mouth and someone pulled her into the woods.

"Ye bard friend be mistaken if he thinks he can watch me forever," Gaelan whispered then withdrew his hand. She turned in his arms and kissed him. "It's kind of sexy watchin' ye take charge and lead the rabble through the woods."

"You're making that up," she said with a chuckle. He grinned and shrugged one shoulder.

"I'll say anythin' if ye keep smilin' like that."

They were kissing and stumbling through the woods after that, finding a soft spot in the grass a decent ways away from the camp to strip and roll around. Gaelan lifted her up onto his hips as his back found the ground. He stared at her, his hands gently roving over her torso and hips.

"We can't make a habit of this," she told him. "What if someone sees?"

"Does it feel like I care?" he asked her, gently nudging his hips against her pelvis so she felt his hard desire against her inner thighs. She bit her lip to hide her smile. "I have no intention of losin' time with ye."

Even though both of them had said many times that they were going to survive the fight with Irenicus, she knew he was as worried as she was. He was right. It was pointless worrying over small things. They needed to spend as much time together as they could so that if something happened to either of them there would be no regrets. She reached down to brush his hair from his face, noting how serious his eyes were. When she leaned forward, he yanked her down to kiss her. The excitement spread through her in hot waves, melting her into his embrace. There was no way she could resist him when he held her like that.

She whimpered pleasantly when he slipped inside of her, and she slowly began grinding onto him. He clutched her hips tight, sighing and groaning. He tilted his head back, giving her access to his neck. She kissed and licked a path from his collarbone to his jaw, stopping to nibble at his throat while his hands roamed through her hair.

"Ye feel so good," he murmured before he kissed her mouth, tongue brushing against hers. She pushed upright and began bouncing, almost biting her own tongue to stifle her moans when his hips began thrusting up to meet her. He groaned louder and she put her finger to her lips to shush him, but he only grinned at her. She instantly knew that was a mistake, noting the glint in his eye that told her he had taken it as a challenge. "I'll make ye scream," he told her, reversing their positions so her back was to the grass.

Jayda gasped when he hooked her leg over his shoulder and rushed into her. She shut her eyes tight and bit her lip, focusing on her breathing so as not to cry out, but his quick and powerful thrusts felt incredibly good, overwhelming her senses. She was panting, wincing, and then she finally did moan loud enough to attract attention. Gaelan clamped his hand over her mouth and put his lips to her ear.

"I told ye," he whispered. "Scream for me." And she did, crying out against his palm as he muttered things like "ye so beautiful" and "ye feel so good" until she peaked. He followed her shortly after and they lay in the grass, panting as the moon moved slowly over their heads. "How do ye feel?"

"Like I want to feel this way forever," she replied and he chuckled.

"Well if ye give me half an hour, I could probably do it again," he told her, grinning. She rolled into his chest and he held her tightly.

"Did I not walk you long enough today?" she teased. "Where did all this energy come from?"

"If ye tired, that's fine. I have energy enough for the both of us." He cradled her head in the crook of his arm as he propped himself up to look at her then brushed her hair from her face. "I recall ye fallin' asleep on me once before. Don't think I'm like to let ye get away with it again."

"Never," she mumbled, reaching up to caress his brow. "I wanted to keep you separate from all of this, Gaelan. Back in Athkatla, I loved being able to go to you and forget the taint. I wanted to run and hide within you, and to never spoil what we had with these burdens. But I was too selfish to let you go."

"Yer a thief, me lady, and thieves are selfish by nature." He kissed her. "I wanted to keep ye a secret meself. Once I got to know ye, I didn't really want to let ye go to Aran, or even Renal. All the owls kept hootin' for information and I couldn't even brag of a conquest lest they learn more of ye than they should." He looked away from her then, at the dark trees beyond. "I thought ye'd choose the knightlin'. I knew ye felt somethin' for me but I was convinced it'd been eclipsed by ye feelin's for him. That night he confessed to ye, I thought for sure ye'd choose a knight over a thief."

"No," she murmured. "Even back then, I already loved you." She felt him still in her arms and soon he looked down at her. She took a breath to steady her nerves. "I love you, Gaelan."

He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, regarding her passively. She wondered what he was thinking when at last he said, "Say it again."

"You first," she mumbled with a grin.

"Didn't I tell ye just the once?"

"Until the next time. Say it and so will I."

"No," he insisted and she playfully swatted his arm. They lay together for awhile, her head on his chest, and counted the stars in the sky while the crickets chirped noisily in the brush.

"Gaelan, there's something I need to tell you." She sat up and looked down at him. "When I had the fever, I had a dream… and in that dream, I spoke with my father."

"Bhaal."

"Yes. He told me that I was his… that I was his heir."

"What does that mean?" he asked with a frown.

"I don't know. A scroll I read once said that it is Bhaal's hope that only one of his children will remain alive to inherit his legacy. We are to come into our inheritance through bloodshed and misery, and I think he hopes we will kill one another. When I killed my broth—Sarevok… I thought I felt his presence there with me. It felt like he was somehow proud. He told me I could not run from him forever. He told me that I was his heir. Does he intend me to be his resurrection or to take his place?"

"Take his place? Ye mean to be the new Lord of Murder. To be a god."

"Maybe," she mumbled, disheartened. "He said I couldn't run from him forever. They'll never stop coming from me. It will never be over so long as I'm his heir."

"Don't think on it, Jayda. Focus on the task at hand. Ye can't know what that means. Remember what I told ye." He stroked her cheek. "Only birth and death are destiny. All else be choice and consequence."

"Yes." Jayda took a deep breath and nodded, cuddling against him once more. "You're right. I won't let it bother me."

"Aye," he mumbled, rubbing her arm. After a moment, he whispered, "I love ye."

Jayda grinned and nuzzled his chest. "I love you, too."

...

"Awaken."

Jayda slowly opened her eyes and stared up at green treetops.

"Awaken and hear me." It was a woman's voice, elegant and solemn. The sky was a peaceful blue, and sun slipped through the leaves, making them glow a bright green. "I bring visions of warning, of what is happening now, and what may happen soon."

Suddenly, the trees burst into flame and the leaves became ash. The sky darkened to black with rolling clouds of gray, just like sky in her dream of Bhaal. She scrambled to her feet and took in her surroundings. All around her, trees were burning and people were screaming. In the distance, the skeletons of razed trunks and buildings twisted and hunched. It was a dead forest.

"This image will speak true, for you are of two sides, and the liars have said their part." A tall and graceful woman walked before her, delicate hands folded gently in front of her. She was elven, garbed in esteemed fashions. "You travel in search of yourself, divided, splintered. There is a piece of you missing."

Jayda opened her mouth to speak but found she could not. The elven woman stared at her and gently shook her head. Jayda frowned and touched her throat, but try as she might to talk, her ability to speak was suppressed.

"The hole inside you fills with death, with darkness, while another… Irenicus… kills with your strength. Look." The woman pointed out across the trees to a faraway branch. Jayda squinted and peered where the woman was pointing. "Look at the destruction he has wrought. See the corruption that he brings."

On a branch across the forest, elves were fleeing before Irenicus. Men, women, children—all were stumbling and running, but he killed them all, cursed them. Even the children. Everyone fell before his power. The spells came with ease and killed instantly. Jayda gasped, hands clenching into tight fists. She wanted to go to them and help them, but she was also suddenly afraid. She tried to move, but her feet were stuck to the spot. She grunted and faced the elven woman who stood before her.

"He has stolen your future to replace his own, avoided his proper fate. This must be undone. For your sake, and theirs, you must take back what has been stolen." The woman lifted her regal chin when she saw the anger in Jayda's eyes. "If their lives are not enough, then think of your own. You will lose yourself to the hole within. Yours is the potential to be your own worst enemy, or your own savior."

Another rush of fire erupted nearby, consuming Jayda and the elf. She screamed, and only then did she find her voice.

...

Jayda's eyes flew open and she stared at the dark sky. Her heart was pounding, skin burning hot, but when she looked down at her body, hands instinctively patting her skin, there was no fire. With a heavy sigh, her head thunked back against the ground and she pressed her palm to her brow.

"What's wrong?" Gaelan muttered sleepily next to her.

"I had a dream," she replied as he turned into her. "Suldanessellar was burning. Irenicus was killing everyone."

"Do ye think it's true?"

"Yes." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "He killed them. He killed them all—women, _children_. And he set the city on fire. It was awful…" She frowned at the sky, remembering more of the vision. As she recalled the words spoken to her, she grew angry—resentful, even. "A woman came to me in the dream. She appealed to my loss, refused to let me speak, all but said I _must_ come to their aid… if not for their sake, for mine." She suddenly sat up. "The elves do not care about me, only themselves. They leave me without a voice, without a choice and expect results. Where were they when Bodhi fell? They were standing on political balance beams."

Gaelan sat up and ran his fingers through her hair. "That's the way of most the world."

"I… I would've helped willingly if they had only asked. They do not ask. They try to corner me into it, give me ultimatums, force me into a position where I cannot refuse. I hate them for it. And now they taunt me with dreams while I've been busy on another errand for _them_—busy with a task important to their cause that they simply could not accomplish on their own. Does it matter? No. The Lanthorn has been reclaimed and do they patiently wait? No. Hurry, Jayda, hurry! And they steal my sleep for it."

"Sounds as though there's more to it than just an attack," he said.

"They're lying to me. I know it. Irenicus is out for revenge as well as power. He was cursed by his people and his people were elves. Elhan pretends he knows nothing and he sends me to do his dirty work without answers or honesty. If he wants to play that game, I'll play."

"Ah, I love it when ye talk dirty," he mused. "Time to call his bluff, then?"

"What are we, Gaelan, but liars and thieves," she said with a bitter laugh.

He pulled her down against his chest, holding her head in the curve of his neck and shoulder, and they stayed like that until the chill of night caught up with them. They got up, dressed, and snuck back into camp. When they were under the furs of their bedrolls and huddled together, Gaelan whispered to her.

"Even the people who think they're above fear can find themselves consumed by it, and then all the power in the world is for naught. Ye can move mountains simply by havin' the courage to act."

"Are you saying I'm brave?" she asked with a small grin.

"I'm sayin' the only reason I'm here is 'cause you are, otherwise I'd be back in Athkatla, warm in me bed."

"I think that makes you braver than I am."

"How do ye figure?"

She shrugged. "I have a reason to be here, something that I have to do or else. You have no reason to be here other than you love me. I'm putting my life on the line for my _life_. You're putting your life on the line for love."

"Now don't make it more than it is." He kissed her. "A thief could get a big head, and thieves with big heads make stupid mistakes."

"As far as I'm concerned, you've already made your biggest one," she told him. He grinned and kissed her again, long and deep.

"Then it should be smooth sailin' from here on out, aye?"

Jayda chuckled. "That's what you think…"

Gaelan kissed her once more and pulled her close. There were a few hours left until dawn and so they chased a little more sleep.

/

As Gaelan trudged through the forest, he watched Jayda's hips swing side to side. She was several yards ahead of him, powering ahead of the rest of the group, and the view made the journey much more bearable—especially when they were forced to climb hills. As they went on, however, Gaelan noticed he was being stared at. He inconspicuously looked around and saw Minsc kept stealing glances at him. He frowned, feeling strangely uncomfortable every time he felt the ranger's eyes on him.

"Coo!" Gaelan hollered after awhile, walking over to Minsc. "Why ye lookin' at me like that?"

"Oh…" Minsc began, looking like a giant child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Ah, Boo says it would be rude to ask, so Minsc will not ask."

Gaelan narrowed his gaze on the guy, wondering what in the Nine Hells would be too rude to ask of him. "…If ye have somethin' to say, ye best say it. It's not exactly easy to offend a shadow thief."

The ranger shuffled uncomfortably as they walked, their pace slowing to allow the rest of the group to pass them. Once the others were out of earshot, Minsc stopped walking.

"It is only that Boo says that you and Jayda smell the same now. I do not understand this," he said. "You do not smell the same! You still smell like… an old campfire, like ashes, and Jayda, she still smells like gingerbread."

"Gingerbread?" Gaelan repeated, confused.

"Yes, gingerbread," he replied as though it were obvious. "So, why would Boo say such a thing?"

"Ah…" Gaelan coughed, wondering how on earth he would explain such a thing to someone seemingly so… innocent. Why should he have to? Why did he even care? "Ye see, when two people, ah..." He cleared his throat, motioning with his hands as he tried to find the right words. "Desire one another, they—"

"This is the beginning of the birds and bees speech, yes?" he interrupted him. "Minsc knows this speech well and knows you have mated with Jayda."

Gaelan was floored. "Mated is such a _specific_ term—"

"But what does that have to do with what Boo smells?"

"Maybe… hamsters are like dogs and… they can smell things we can't," Gaelan choked out.

"Oh?" Minsc seemed to seriously consider this. His face lit up with understanding. "That explains why I can never hide treats from Boo. You are most helpful! I do not understand why Boo would tell Minsc not to ask you these things."

"I have no idea either, me large friend," Gaelan said and smirked.

They rejoined the rest of the group and he noticed Minsc seemed to be in a much happier mood. Ah, the burden of confusion. Now the ranger had more energy in his step, bounding ahead with such long strides that he nearly caught up with Jayda.

"Oo, squirrels, Boo!" Minsc exclaimed. "I know I saw them! Quick, throw nuts!"

"Minsc," Jaheira began, "could you please maintain a little grace while in nature's presence? Sometimes I simply do not know how you came by your title of ranger."

"Do you wish me dour and sour like most others? No, I say not. The animals run and play without care, and I would, too… if such a thing would not squish Boo flat."

"But your duties are serious things, Minsc. Do you realize that?"

"I am very serious! Boo would not let me shirk my duties!" he declared. "I would not want to shirk anything. No sir, no shirking."

"Admirable Minsc," Jaheira mumbled, "but you use that word like you don't know what it means."

"Eh, well… no…" he confessed and Gaelan snorted in amusement, "but it sounds sharp and painful and I always reserve such things for freaks that might steal those squirrels' nuts!"

Jayda laughed ahead of them, prompting a chuckle from Aerie and Haer'dalis. Jaheira just grinned.

"…Good job, Minsc," the druid encouraged him with more than a drop of sarcasm. "Keep it up."

/

Anomen was in the middle of packing his saddlebags and a backpack when Imoen bounded into his room. She stopped at the door, one foot flung out and ready to take the stairs, when she spotted him and frowned.

"Hey there," she said slowly, confusion etched plainly on her face. "Going somewhere?"

"I heard you were to be shipped off to Nalia's," he said and she looked almost guilty when she huffed and nodded.

"Yep, sure am. Thought I'd say goodbye… What about you? I thought you were under strict orders to keep the bed warm." She folded her arms over her chest accusingly.

"I thought Jayda's little sister deserved an escort," he replied, focusing on packing instead of the pain in his body. Imoen unfolded her arms, surprised.

"Wh-what?" she blurted. "N-no! I mean, you don't look so good. You need your rest, Anomen. Get your strength back—and your coloring, too. You're still a touch too pale. I'll be fine on my own."

"I insist," he said, buckling the saddlebag closed. "I am not as weak as everyone seems to think. Besides, a young girl shouldn't travel alone. There are more than monsters out there." He limped over to his bed where his brand new surcoat lay, rich burgundy with gold trimming and the Order's flaming rose sigil on the chest. "Brigands and thieves would do worse than rob you, my lady."

"I appreciate the gesture, Anomen, but really. Stay. Get better. What good are you if you're limping around? We wouldn't make it before winter set in and I don't have time to go at your pace."

"Which is why I have two stallions prepared." He pulled the surcoat over his chainmail. In his current condition, platemail was too heavy for him to wear. It wore him down, tired him out, and made his body hurt worse. He had to settle for the lighter, less protective armor. "We have a long way to go, after all."

"Wait, horses?" she asked, suddenly interested. "Where'd you get horses?"

"I figured the Order wouldn't mind if I borrowed one or two, especially for such a righteous mission as this."

"Righteous mission…" Imoen chewed her thumbnail thoughtfully. "We would make it in half the time," she surmised.

"Yes," he agreed with a faint smile to mask the pain of his aches. "If we leave this afternoon, we could probably arrive no later than anyone already headed there on foot. The rest on horseback would certainly allow me sufficient time to recover my strength. The fresh air would, no doubt, do me good."

"No doubt…" she agreed suspiciously.

"I hear the river west to the D'Arnise Keep is flooded," he said, pulling his backpack on. "We'll have to go around it.

"Yeah, around it," she mumbled. "Were you thinking north or south?"

"If we go north, we risk running into the skirmishes up the Trade Way. It would be dangerous. We go south."

"How far south," she asked with raised brows, "before we could safely cross?"

"Very far, my lady."

Imoen folded her arms over her chest again and regarded him with a knowing stare. He merely smiled at her, waiting for the inevitable agreement.

"She'll kill us," she finally said.

"That wasn't stopping you a moment ago when you thought to ditch me."

"Fair point." She sighed and took a saddlebag when he offered it. "I'm not looking forward to explaining it."

"Right now, my only mission is making sure she remains alive to reprimand me," he told her as they headed down the hall. "I'll gladly accept any tongue-lashing she gives, but I'll die of guilt before these wounds if I remain in that bed."

Imoen put her hand on his shoulder and smiled, nodding with understanding. "Anomen… I know exactly what you mean."

/

They heard the clashing of steel and the shouts of spell-casting long before they saw the camp. The bright flashes of magic lit up the trees. The group immediately drew their weapons and sprinted toward the noise. Drow threaded through the camp, locked in combat against the elves.

"Find Elhan!" Jayda commanded them just before the fighting met their blades.

They pushed their way into the main yard of the camp, noting how thin the ranks of both sides were. The assault appeared to be no more than a midnight raid, but the element of surprise could always turn an impossible endeavor into a simple task. The Drow had clearly surprised the elves and had invaded their perimeter, managing to fight deep into the base.

It was on the other side of the encampment that Jayda found Elhan and his fellow soldiers cutting down the last of an assault team.

"Elhan!" Jayda shouted, blades clashing with one of the remaining stragglers. She slapped him away and Haer'dalis caught the dark elf with his twin swords, ramming them up through his gut.

"You have the Lanthorn!" Elhan exclaimed as they ran up to him. He smiled when she pulled the lantern out of her pack. It was made of jade with bronze-colored leaves winding around each stem. Inside, a magical orb softly glowed in gold. "Ah, praise the Seldarine! It is in the hands of the murderous vampire Bodhi no longer! I feel the tide of this crisis is certainly changing!"

His comrades gave an elated shout. "Harrah!"

"Yes," Jayda agreed quickly, "and Bodhi said a lot before she fell."

Elhan's joyous expression fell into a frown. He turned to his comrades and dismissed them in the elvish tongue and then turned back to Jayda when they were gone, motioning for them to follow him.

"I don't suppose you'd know what she said?" Jayda asked as they made their way into the woods away from the battle.

"Anything said by her or the Exile Irenicus must be treated as suspect," he replied through a tightly clenched jaw. "You would do well not to repeat their tales to those that do not need to know them!"

"So, Bodhi is a vampire—a fact I'm positive I never revealed—and Irenicus is now 'the Exile'. That's not a name for a stranger." She stopped and looked back toward the camp. "Perhaps I should ask around..."

"No!" he blurted, looking uncomfortable. He gently grabbed her arm and tried to force her to follow him. "This is… This is not for you to know."

"Oh, that is where you're wrong, Elhan. There is _much_ I know already and much more I _deserve_ to know." She pulled out of his grasp and stepped closer to him, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "You people are ready to sacrifice me and my friends to cover up your mistakes. The very _least_ you owe us is a full explanation and I see no reason to hand over the Lanthorn or step foot into your lost city until you fill out a few chapters of this tragic tale."

"I…" he whispered, staring hard into her eyes. "I can't tell you, Jayda."

"Can't or won't?"

"It is not my place to do so." He took a step away from her, regarded her, and then continued through the woods. They followed. "The Exiles, this Irenicus and Bodhi, are criminals. Their crime was great, their punishment greater!"

She scoffed. "Yes, that much I gleaned for myself. And now he has returned for revenge—the monster you made him. I fail to see the great shame in this."

"You do not understand, and I am not prepared to make you." He led them up a felled tree that linked up with several other impressive redwoods. "To have the answers you seek, you will have to talk to one of those involved." They crossed over several giant branches that seemed to disappear into a wall of trees so thick and dark, it would be impossible to pass through. "Demin, the high priestess, could tell you more but, in order to find her, we will have to breach the city." He stopped in front of a giant trunk and ran his hand over the rough, wooden surface. "It is here. I can feel it." He turned to face her and held out his hand. "Please. Trust me."

"What reason do I have to trust you?" she murmured in response. He merely stared at her, brow pulled tight in hope and worry. Jayda sighed and handed him the Rhynn Lanthorn. "Just get us inside."

"Yes," he said, taking the lantern. He sighed in relief then began drawing quick breaths in elation. "The Lanthorn is almost buzzing, there can be no mistake. Stand back!"

They did as they were told, watching as the trunk of the tree responded to the glow of the lantern. The vertical ripples in the wood began twisting like ropes and drawing away from each other, like curtains being pulled apart. Inside the tree was not a hollow chamber, but rather an opening to a grand city.

"Ahh, sweet Suldanessellar," Elhan breathed in awe. "I have been away too long… Walk with reverence when you step here. You are going where precious few outside of the elven community have even seen."

Jayda glared at his back. They were there to help him and he was giving them lessons on how to behave? His city was burning if her dreams had been true, and he was asking them to watch their step? So flooded with anger was she that, in that moment, she almost lost sight of her true reason for being there. Only when he turned to face her again, a serious glint in his eye, did she find enough composure to hold her tongue.

"My company will hold off the Drow while we make our way through the city," he said. "I must determine what Irenicus has done. It won't due to go charging in until we know what we're up against. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she said, and the group moved for the portal.

Gaelan grabbed Jayda's arm before she could cross over. She looked back at him. He held her gaze for a moment and nodded, silently communicating his thoughts and feelings. _Be strong, stay focused, have faith. _She nodded, too, and tugged her arm out of his grasp so she could link her fingers with his. They entered the city together.

* * *

**A/N: **The gem between Gaelan and Minsc is completely credited to the Haer'dalis mod. I modified the conversation slightly, that's all. When it happened in my game, I cracked up and wanted to add it somehow. I thought a little light-heartedness might be a nice repieve in the midst of such seriousness.


	44. The Fiery Hoops

**Act 7**

**The Fiery Hoops**

The city of Suldanessellar was as inspiring and beautiful as it was troubling and disheartening. The majestic architecture and wise, ancient trees were spoiled by the distant fires and the piles of bodies littering the streets. Where once the elven songs and nature's breeze floated among the leaves, screams of torment had filled the air. Suldanessellar had become a graveyard of Irenicus' conquest and revenge.

They had been fighting their way through the city for hours, battling against strange skeletal warriors and summoned dark creatures. Every chance they got, they avoided the golem patrols, barely breathing as they stared in disbelief as iron-formed led its clay brethren through the city with heavy, stomping strides. Then there were the other strange outsiders. They were tall with strong bodies and the heads of feral cats. They led golems and summoned magical beings to fight for them, slaughtering the remaining resistance as they came upon them. When she had seen these foul creatures, she had understood Elhan's distress.

When Jayda and Gaelan had first come through the portal into the city, Elhan had been kneeling next to a dead soldier. After examining the soldier's wounds, he had hung his head in exhausted understanding.

"_It is as I feared," he announced. "The madman Irenicus has unleashed his anger upon the city. And worse yet, I recognize the magic he has employed."_

"_What is it?" Jaheira asked._

"_Corruption magics," he replied as he stood up, "illusions from a race of spirits, the Rakshasa. Such creatures are very predatory." His jaw clenched tight, hands curling into fists. "It would appear that there is no depth to which Irenicus will not sink."_

Jayda motioned to her comrades to follow her across a gap between buildings, eyes ever-alert to the passing patrol. When they were gone, she led her party across the platform and up a ramp to another tier of the city. It was a city of platforms all at different levels, secured to the trees and connected to one another by roped bridges and stone ramps. Each tier held houses or temples, all as elegantly constructed as the platforms they were built upon. But the fires of Irenicus' rage and the destruction of his minions had blackened the beauty of even the elves' visions of harmony and peace.

As they hid from another rakshasa patrol, they listened with churning stomachs as the outsider barked out commands to his servants. The house they hid behind was splintered and the screams of elves shook them to the core. In spite of her anger at the elves, Jayda had never wished harm on them. She wanted to lead her friends out there to save them, but there were golems and other foul creatures accompanying the rakshasa—a being she had yet to fight and had no idea of its capabilities. They had been fighting all night and all morning. Jumping to the rescue of every person would not only wear them down, but would give Irenicus all the time he needed to follow through with the rest of his evil plans.

She clenched her sword tightly, and even had to reach out to stop Jaheira when the druid grunted and began to reveal her hiding place. Jayda shook her head, warning her not to get involved. How many murders had they hidden from that day? It was demoralizing, but she had to think of their task: to stop Irenicus. They would save far more lives by getting to him and destroying him for good.

"_Suldanessellar is under siege," Haer'dalis announced. "With this number of beasts under his command—and creatures with such formidable power—Irenicus will be very hard to unseat."_

"_Yes," Elhan agreed, disheartened._

"_If you have suggestions, make them now," Jayda said flatly._

"_We must proceed with caution," Elhan told her. "Not everyone in the city can withstand an onslaught like this. Their safety must take priority—"_

"_Commander, they are likely dead." Jayda looked at him pointedly. "If the Rakshasa have not found them yet, it is only a matter of time. I won't tip-toe through your city and risk being bested by Irenicus again."_

"_But Jayda—" Aerie began in protest._

"_I won't needlessly put innocents in harm's way." She kept her gaze on Elhan. "Regardless of what you think, I am not my father."_

Hiding like this while innocent people were slaughtered, how was she any better than him?

As Jayda and her friends slipped between the buildings, the house they sought came into view. It was guarded by a dark elf and a large fiend Jayda remembered fighting before. A nabassu. Perhaps most strange about the situation was the Drow. He was standing there in broad daylight, which should have been impossible considering their sensitivity to light. Elhan had warned her about the deceptive nature of the rakshasa. Perhaps the dark elf was a mere illusion.

She frowned, chewing her bottom lip in thought. She had killed plenty of dark elves, and even a nabassu… but should the Drow turn out to be a rakshasa in disguise, they could be jumping into peril. Soon, however, they would be facing Irenicus. What would a rakshasa be when compared to him? But should he prove to be too much a match for them, she didn't want to lose herself to the Slayer before she had a chance to face Irenicus.

"_I don't know who you are," Elhan told her. "But I know that you must seek out Ellesime. She will know what to do. She has a link to the divine not unlike your own," he lowered his head, "though through a much more benevolent spirit."_

_Jayda's jaw clenched. "Is that so?"_

"_High priestess Demin will likely know how to find her and how to get to her. She lives in a house to the west marked by elven sigils and a door painted blue. Failing that, you may find her in the temple of Rillifane." He pointed into the west. "Go. I will garrison this area with my elite War Guards. We will shepherd people to safety and I will send what can be spared from the encampment to help you secure the inner city." He bowed stiffly at the waist, a formal motion. "May the Seldarine guide you."_

The way was forward. They had to get inside that house. Jayda silently motioned her friends into position around several houses on the adjacent platform and prepared to face the nabassu. Minsc notched his bow while Aerie stood behind him, ready to fire her spells. Gaelan took up position across the way with a bow and Jaheira readied her nature-magic. Haer'dalis was to go straight in while Jayda used her stealth and his distraction to loop around the nabassu's platform and hopefully take the dark elf from behind.

The plan was sound in theory, regardless of how foolish reality might prove it to be.

As Haer'dalis sauntered across the rope bridge, the dark elf came forward, his fiend growling at his side. "All citizens were to stay inside under threat of death!" the Drow snapped. "I will look forward to correcting your insolence."

"I am no citizen of _this_ place," Haer'dalis told him, pointing out his tiefling features. "I am one of you, and am sent for the high priestess."

"She is being punished for her part on our Master's curse," he said, snarling. "You are too late."

"Fool! Whose order do you think I was sent on?"

"Dare call me a fool?" the Drow growled, and then two arrows struck his chest. He stared down at his torso in shock before his disguise melted away and the arrows clattered to the ground. A rakshasa stood before them bearing the head of a black tiger and armored in steel. "You are not one of us. But the master said you'd come. I look forward to killing you in his stead."

As he drew his weapons, Jayda screamed and rushed forward. He turned to face her, easily side-swatting her dagger as she loosed it. It appeared in her hand a moment later but the cat-beast was upon her. She battled him, catching glimpses of the nabassu out of the corner of her eye.

Arrows sailed through the air, piercing the fiend repeatedly in his side and tearing through his wings. Haer'dalis ducked and rolled, slashing at the creature at every opportunity. Magic missiles and lightning strikes wore the creature down before Jaheira came charging in to help Haer'dalis. Minsc soon followed, Lilarcor held high over his head. The sentient sword was screaming excitedly for blood.

With so many attacking it, the nabassu fell with much more ease than when Jayda had fought one single-handedly. Seeing that they were in no immediate danger, Jayda focused on her fight with the rakshasa, impressed by his prowess. She was having a difficult time finding an opening. It was when Minsc's battle-cry rang nearby that the rakshasa turned to parry a swing from the ranger's two-hander and Jayda dared find a chink in the outsider's armor. She thrust her silver sword into his back and was amazed when the blade cut through the metal as though it were nothing. The rakshasa gaped as the sword went through his chest. Minsc followed through with his swing and lopped the creature's head off.

"Jayda," Jaheira exclaimed as Gaelan and Aerie ran across the bridge. "The priestess!"

They hurried up the winding stairs and threw open the door. Inside, a handful of rakshasa were encroaching upon an elven woman, her guards dead and scattered around the room. She looked to them in shock, eyes begging for their help. The rakshasa turned in surprise, giving the priestess enough time to cast a spell. Then the chaos of swords and magic began. Jayda couldn't have explained what had happened or how she had gotten injured, but when her foe had been dispatched and she moved on to help Gaelan, she saw everyone around her was in a haggard state.

Overwhelmed by the expert fighters in such a small space, Jayda and her friends were bleeding and bruised by the time the fight had finished and the outsiders lay dead. The priestess collapsed, gasping, into a chair. Jayda, Jaheira, Haer'alis, and Gaelan drug the corpses out and tossed them over the balcony while Minsc barred the door and Aerie focused what was left of her mana into healing spells.

They all gathered inside and silently began to tend to their wounds, pulling out rolls of gauze and cotton and distilled alcohol. The elf tried to smile at them, but it was evident from the long, tired faces that no one was feeling particularly friendly.

"Thank you for your assistance, strangers," the priestess finally said. She was tall and beautiful, like the rest of her kind. Her long, blonde hair was tied into a thick braid, fair skin smudged with blood, and her clear, light blue eyes exhausted from combat and fear. "Forgive me, also, if I reward your effort with questions. How do you come to be here? Our city is not usually found by outsiders, doubly so with the Exile employing his magics to hide us. It is beyond fortuitous if you stumbled here unknowing."

"Such a coincidence is impossible," Haer'dalis told her. "We came here to help. We reclaimed the Rhynn Lanthorn and Elhan led us into the city."

"Praise the Seldarine," she gasped happily. "Ah, forgive me for my rudeness. I am Demin, high priestess of Suldanessellar. Whom do I have the pleasure to address?" Haer'dalis introduced everyone. "Why would you concern yourselves over our troubles?"

"We're here to kill Irenicus. He has taken much from me." Jayda stood from where she had been kneeling on the floor. "You call Irenicus 'the Exile'. Why? Elhan would not say, and I must know. He said you would have answers."

"Elhan is like many of us, and would prefer this incident solved without involving others. Forgive him his hesitation. He only wishes for the best outcome." Demin sighed. "I have begun to feel it is a mistake to keep this a secret amongst us. I am not so concerned with the shame of our people over the Exiles as most others are, and the consequences of that shame have been far reaching and have proven especially difficult to dispel." She looked at them almost pleadingly. "What good is our silence if the city is crushed because we would not seek help?"

"More has been damaged than your city," Jaheira said sharply. "And more will be destroyed if we fail here."

"I know it." Demin seemed almost ashamed. "The Exiles were not always as you know them now. They once had names that I would have been proud to speak, and were as worthy as any other of praise!"

"And now they are worthy of only hatred and loathing," Aerie mumbled angrily, surprising everyone in the room.

"Yes," Demin agree. "You would not be here if you had not been personally offended by him. The Exile is good at provoking reactions and has garnered the strongest of reactions from we, his own people, for he wronged us greater than any other."

"Is that so?" Jayda asked, wondering if Irenicus had ripped their souls from them as well. She sat back down, keeping her gaze locked on the elf's as Jaheira handed the priestess a wet cloth to clean her face. "You owe us a story, priestess."

"One, he and his sister were elven as we are. She and he were well known in the court of Suldanessellar. He, at least, was a great asset to our kind and kin. He was the greatest of our mages, as skilled as any of elven blood could be without divine assistance. He even had the favor of Queen Ellesime." She suddenly looked sad, abandoning the wiping of her cuts as she lost herself in her memories. "It was not enough."

"It never is with his kind," Minsc idly commented as Aerie wrapped his torso with gauze to cover the wounds too great for her magic to heal completely.

"Of the two, the sister was the insatiable one. She was not as regarded but she held great influence over her brother. She pulled him into her madness. Together, they sought more than was possible. They wished the power of the gods, and they were not concerned about the consequences. He of the Exiles performed a dark ritual and committed a grave offense against the greatest symbol of our longevity: the Tree of Life." Anger flashed across her fair features. "He sought to merge his essence with the divine tree, draining it and stealing its energy. He failed, of course, but there was a price to pay for the rest of us."

"He disrupted your connection to the land," Jaheira assumed and Demin nodded.

"There was a great shock that ran through Suldanessellar, and many of our weaker citizens lay near death. That he would endanger so many for his and his sister's selfish goals was one thing, but to threaten the very nature of what makes us who we are was unfathomable!"

"Then why not kill him outright?" Jayda wanted to know, trying her best to keep her bubbling anger from boiling over. "Could you not see that such evil would only grow worse?"

"It fell to Ellesime to judge the crime, and she was harsh." Demin went back to dabbing her face with the cloth. "Having forsaken everything elven, they were outcast so they might learn how precious our ways are."

Haer'dalis snorted. "Not to be critical, but Irenicus does not appear to be in the business of learning what he does not wish to know."

"We had high hopes at the time, high hopes for a man who was once highly regarded by our people."

"What did you do to him?" Aerie asked seriously.

"Ellesime petitioned the gods and a divine curse was placed upon the Exiles. All their connection to the elven spirit was severed." Even as she said it, Jaheira and Aerie gasped as though in pain. "Ellesime thought it a punishment worse than death! And for an elf, it is so. A life no longer than a human's? Their elven spirits banished from the paradise all elvenkind are entitled to?"

"It would've been torture," Jaheira said. "Madness."

"Yes," Demin agreed. "The sister exposed herself to vampirism to try and counteract the divine curse, but gods are not routed so easily. The brother did not risk the same. A better man would have learned to appreciate what he had lost, perhaps learning humility and seek to make amends. He did not prove to be a 'better man'."

"What was your first clue?" Jayda screamed and leapt to her feet, momentarily blinded by her own anger. "He had wronged you in the worst way possible, overcome by his own desire for power! You elves, who have watched the races rise and fall, have seen the corruption of power and how it destroys even the noblest of creatures who quest for it!"

"He was once elvenkind!" Demin exclaimed. "His redemption was not unbelievable."

"How could you be so stupid?" Jayda rebutted. "You inflict the worst of punishments on them, cut them loose, and expect some kind of reform? At that point, there is room in the heart only for revenge!"

Gaelan's arms slipped around her and his hands forced her eyes to look at him. It took a moment before her breathing calmed and her brow began to relax out of the painful wrinkle it had formed. She saw in his eyes how brightly hers were glowing. She clenched her jaw tightly, grasping for threads of self-control. She felt the hilt of her sword in her hand and wondered when she had even reached for it.

Jayda slumped back to her knees, letting her weapon clatter to the ground. Gaelan knelt beside her. The room was still with silence for quite some time before Demin cleared her throat, understanding evident on her fair features. There was no anger or hatred in her expression, only sympathy.

"We had hoped this would turn out better," Demin told them honestly. "But the Exile has found a way to restore himself, has made pacts with our most despised enemies, and has resumed his original plot."

"Yes, he found a way all right!" Jayda hissed. "He stole my divine soul!"

"Your soul…" Demin gasped and struggled with the emotion ticking through her facial muscles. One minute she looked horrified and the next as though she might vomit. "I… have no way to accurately measure the cost of our decisions on you. Reparations _will_ be made, if there is anyone left here to make them. I swear to you."

"Reparations?" Gaelan balked. "Can ye say honestly there is such a thing? Ye left ye criminal alive to inflict his punishment on someone else! This terrible sentence ye passed on him—ye ultimate judgment—was served on someone else. How can ye make amends for that?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "I… I am truly sorry, Jayda. After all that has happened to you, Elhan had no right to beg your help. _We_ have no right to beg your help…"

"I don't want your sympathy," Jayda told her, mentally instructing herself to take deep breaths and calm down. She could hate the elves for their short-sighted selfishness another time. Right then, she had to focus on getting to Irenicus. "I am here to reclaim my soul. With any luck, I'll be able to salvage what's left of your city and your people, but I have to get to him first. Help me."

"Ellesime will know how to help you find him and fight him. We must get to her. The Exile has seeded the streets with his minions, and taken Ellesime into the palace. I have made an attempt to enter, but it is sealed tight. I can help you get inside, but it will not be easy. No, we have seen to it that it will not be easy."

Aerie shuffled closer to Demin and touched her knee. "I can feel the Tree of Life calling out in pain… and the pain of the elves is its pain as well. We will do all that we can to stop this," she promised with her meek voice but strong smile.

"Thank you, child," Demin replied, laying her hand over Aerie's. Then she looked at Jayda and the rest of the group. "The temple is dedicated to Rillifane Rallathil. He can summon the spirit defenders of the forest to protect us… and he has the power to break the seal on the palace. But the Leaflord must be awakened, his avatar summoned, in order for the spirits to come." She stood up as she spoke and crossed to a bookshelf where she drew an old tome down and flipped through the dusty pages. She knelt down before them and showed them a two-page spread of drawings. "We tried to summon him when the Exile first entered the city, but he stopped us. We attempted to safeguard the relics needed for the ritual, but I only succeeded in securing the talisman," she pointed to it, "before I was captured."

"What of the other two?" Jaheira asked, eyeing the blade and the cup drawings.

"The moonblade was smuggled out of the temple, but I have no idea if the elves who carried it escaped or not. The golden cup was given to one of the Exile's generals. He is a tall man, a human, with black hair and black eyes. He wears armor likes yours." Demin motioned to Jayda. "If we can reclaim these relics and return them to the altar in the temple, the avatar of Rillifane will be summoned. Suldanessellar will be saved."

Jayda sighed. It was Beregost and Nashkel and Baldur's Gate all over again. It was Athkatla and Brynnlaw and the Underdark once more. Everywhere she went, she jumped through countless flaming hoops in her struggle to complete her mission. Only this time she was weak and tired and a thread away from losing herself to Bhaal. _Just get the relics and you can see Irenicus_, she told herself. _Just get through the gates and it will be over_.

"All right. We'll get them," she said and stood. Demin pulled her back down with little effort.

"Where are you going in this state?" the priestess wanted to know. "Rest here awhile. I will use the power I have left to cast healing prayers upon you."

There was no argument as Jayda and her friends nestled against the walls with pillows and blankets. Gaelan held her as Jayda closed her eyes. She concentrated on the way his chest rose and fell against her back, and then she was fast asleep.

/

Jayda didn't even sleep four hours when she was awoken. Gaelan's gentle hand on her shoulder brought her out of her dark dreams but her head was still in a fog. She blinked furiously, trying to orient herself. Elhan and Demin were whispering across the room and she knew he must've come sometime while they slept. Jayda looked around at her friends. They were all awake and alert. Minsc was sharpening Lilarcor, Aerie and Jaheira nibbling on some food, and Haer'dalis was stretching his tired limbs.

When Demin noticed she was awake, she led the elven commander over to their gathered group and offered Jayda something to eat. She declined. Her stomach felt hollow, as though food might pass straight through it. Or worse, come back up through her throat.

"Elhan tells me the palace gates are fortified with the bulk of the Exile's force," she told them. "The patrols come in intervals, giving us about ten minutes between each checkpoint."

"I've a handful of soldiers with me," the commander continued. "I left the remainder of my force at the city gates to escort any survivors to safety. They are organizing counter-patrols, but we've too few men to challenge the Exile's forces directly."

"We need to get those relics," Jaheira said and Demin nodded.

"Yes. The talisman will be easy to obtain should we safely get to the priest's house. I know the incantation necessary to retrieve it from the spellbox. Finding the general holding the cup could be difficult, taking it from him even more so. And I have no idea how far the soldier who carried the moonblade got."

"Alahaan," one of the soldiers said, stepping up. "He was smuggling the moonblade out of Suldanessellar when his company was attacked. He fled to the House of the Moon to invoke the spirits. We fought to buy him time. I don't know if he succeeded or not."

"We'll start there," Elhan said. "Good work. I'll take my men there to see if we can't find the blade."

Jayda eyed Haer'dalis. "Go with them. They'll need all the help they can get." Truly, she wanted to make sure no one else was lost before they had a chance to open the gates. "Demin and the rest of us will head to the priest's house. Then we'll go search for this general. If he's at the palace, it'll be difficult to lure him away without challenging the whole force. We may need your men to distract him, Commander."

He nodded in understanding. He and Demin privately discussed a few more matters and then he was off, sweeping out of the house with his soldiers and Haer'dalis in tow. Demin drew her cloak tight around her shoulders and motioned for them to follow her.

Outside, the sun was sinking in the sky, creating red and orange ribbons of light behind rows of purple clouds. The backdrop of fire burning and elves dying was further away but no less evident. They hurried through the streets, sneaking around buildings and hiding in wait for patrols to pass. It took an hour to get to the priest's home, and the building was guarded with two clay golems, several skeletal warriors, and another rakshasa.

"Take him down," Jayda whispered to Minsc, pointing at the rakshasa. He nodded and notched his bow. To Aerie, she said, "Pick a golem and hit it with all you got. The rest of you? With me."

They snuck their way as close as they could get before being spotted, and Jaheira immediately leapt in to crush the skeletal warriors with her quarterstaff. The magic that held them did not stand up well against the battering of her staff, and soon their bones were scattering across the platform. As Jayda rushed the rakshasa, an arrow thunked through his skull and he thudded against the building and slumped to the ground in a lifeless heap. She switched gears, pivoting and darting toward the golem that Aerie was not bombarding with magic. Gaelan and Demin joined her, taking turns slashing at it as it stumbled to catch its target.

Jaheira combined her magic with Aerie's, summoning nature's might. The golem staggered, its leg shattering after too many assaults with her staff, and then it toppled. Demin shouted for Jayda and Gaelan to assist Jaheira and so they did, hammering down what was left of the animated beast until it was broken beyond repair and the magic had left it. Demin unleashed a surge of energy against the golem she faced and sent it toppling over the edge of the tier and falling onto branches far below.

They were gasping for breath when Minsc and Aerie joined them in front of the house. That's when sudden laughter surprised them all. Across the way, a human dressed in black armor with black hair, black eyes, and olive skin was smiling at them, clapping in amusement. On the platform behind him, rows and rows of humanoid minions stood in bloodthirsty anticipation. That they had managed to so quietly sneak up on them was unsettling.

"Go," Jayda whispered to Demin, who immediately took off for the door. "Minsc, Aerie—go with her. Get the talisman."

"Are you sure?" Minsc asked, evidently concerned about leaving his friend with the stranger.

"I do not think this is a good idea," Jaheira told her.

"Just go."

"All of you should go," the man hollered. How he had heard them whispering was beyond explainable. "All of you… except for her." He pointed directly at Jayda. "I have things to discuss with her and her alone. If you want this," he held up the golden goblet, "you will do as I command."

Jayda nodded to Gaelan and the others and, after a moment's hesitation, they left. She looked pointedly at the black-armored man and slowly walked closer. He sauntered confidently to meet her in the center of the platform, weapons sheathed at his sides. His back-up remained where they were on the next platform over.

"You are more than I imagined, Jayda," he purred as he looked her up and down. "Then again, your father speaks so highly of you."

...

Haer'dalis slipped inside the House of the Moon just after Elhan and was stunned to find a dozen dead fiends and rakshasa scattered among the small space. One elf lay dead amongst them with a long-sword clutched tightly against his chest. The blade was made of cobalt steel and glowed softly. The hilt was a deep blue and elegantly carved.

"What happened to them?" Haer'dalis asked as he examined the carnage. "I see no wounds, only the dead."

"Alahaan sacrificed himself for the blade, so it destroyed his enemies," Elhan explained. "The moonblade is one of our most powerful treasures. They say it was once wielded by the founder of Myth Rhynn. Only one of the chosen can use it."

Haer'dalis knelt and wrapped the blade in the dead elf's torn cloak and bound it to his back. They found Elhan's fellow comrades just outside standing guard as they had been ordered. The sun was low in the sky and the deep purple of night was fast-approaching.

"Come," Elhan said, "before another patrol happens upon this place."

...

Gaelan watched as Demin went directly to a locked spellbox and withdrew it from its place on the wall. She set it on a nearby table and gently ran her hand over the surface. There were five pressure plates, each adorned with an elven symbol. He had no idea what any of them were and he didn't really care. His thoughts were on Jayda and what the man in black wanted with her. He went to the window to watch, glaring through the pane as Jayda and the man stood in the center to talk. He couldn't hear what they were saying and he could barely make out the movement on the man's lips. Jayda's back was to him.

He was giving her five minutes and then he was going out there.

Demin withdrew a stone from her robes and studied the markings. "From Corellan, all began," she whispered and placed the stone on one of the pressure plates. It sunk in with a grinding sound. "Rillifane grew." She placed it on another plate. It, too, sunk in. "From the branches of Rillfane, the Water flowed… granting life to the Tree." There was one pressure plate left. "Suldanessellar owes all to the Tree."

When the final plate clicked into place, the box opened and Demin withdrew a jade necklace from within. She clutched it close to her chest, locked the box again, and hid the stone and talisman within her robes.

"We have what we need," she announced. "There's a back way. We must get the talisman safely to the temple."

"We go nowhere without Jayda," Jaheira said.

"We cannot risk the talisman falling into the Exile's hands!" Demin argued.

"Ye lose anyway if we don't get that goblet from the man outside," he reminded her.

"Of course," she mumbled. "You're right. Forgive me, I'm—"

But Gaelan didn't wait around to listen. He was out the door and sneaking among the columns, notching an arrow in his bow in case things turned ugly.

...

"My father?" Jayda echoed, narrowing her gaze on him. "What do you know of my father?"

"Much more than you do, for we were close companions for a very long time." He touched his index finger to his brow and rolled his hand with a flourish as it dropped back down to his side, bowing ever so slightly at the waist. "You may call me Kayl."

"How did you know Gorion?"

Kayl laughed. "Gorion? You mean your human foster parent? The fool is dead, and never did I cross paths with him. No, I mean your _real_ father. Bhaal. Lord of Murder."

"How did you—"

"I can smell it on you," he said, leaning toward her and inhaling deeply. "I can smell the death, the entropy—it's all around you, it's inside you. Never have I smelled someone so dead and yet so alive—not since I last smelled _him_. Ah, and I can smell the Slayer in you, too. You are so much like your father."

"I am nothing like my father."

He laughed again, genuine mirth in his eyes. "He warned me about you, how funny you are! I admit, I didn't think it would be this amusing." When he finished laughing, he sighed contentedly. "I haven't laughed like this in quite some time. Is this your idea of a joke?"

"It's no joke." Jayda thought she might be sick hearing him laughing at her protests as though it were all some grand jest. It was, if she thought it through logically. It was one giant, cosmic joke—her life. "What do you want?" She raised the silver sword and Fire Tooth. "If you're here for a fight, get on with it. I need that goblet."

"I'm not here to fight you," he assured her with a devilishly charming smile.

"Then what do you want? Parading around as one of Irenicus' lackeys… I don't understand."

"That fool thinks me one of his servants because he is blinded by power. I am here only because I knew the way to you would be to remain close to him. You have come for him and I am here to see you kill him, to see you come into your glory."

"What glory?"

"You are your father's heir. This is the last test you shall suffer before the perceived time arrives. With the wizard's death, so shall you claim your inheritance."

"I don't want it. I don't want anything to do with him!" she exclaimed. Kayl chuckled.

"Then spare the wizard."

"I can't do that—"

"Of course you can't!" he hissed happily. "You cannot allow him to ravage the elves and the Coast, not with your soul, not after everything he's done! And what's the death of one worthy wizard? He deserves it, doesn't he? And with this kill, you reclaim your soul." Kayl drew close to her, face inches from hers. "Bhaal asked me to come to you when the time came—not to help you, never to help you. You must struggle the whole way if you are to fulfill his demands—but to give you a gift… And now that I've seen you, I'm drooling for the encore. Jayda," he whispered, deeply inhaling her scent once more.

"You're evil…" she whispered. His grin was wide, exposing his fangs, which were more bestial than vampiric. With his face so close, she could see his black eyes in great detail—was unable to look away, in fact. They were deep like a void, his pupils ringed with a starburst of light.

"I so enjoyed your father's work… and if this deception did not end with bloody consequences, I'd be inclined to join in the fun." He moved to her side, lips hovering near her ear. "I have two gifts for you now, Jayda. One from me…" He placed the golden goblet in her hands. "And one from your father."

The pain that shot through her originated between her shoulder blades. It felt like five daggers had buried deep into her back, as though her armor was not even there. She screamed, feeling energy rushing through her shaking limbs. Her ears were stopped up with a shrieking sound, mind momentarily arrested, vision whited-out. She would've toppled over if Kayl had not held her upright with a palm like iron flat against her chest. His other hand was curled like a claw, drawing something out of her. She couldn't see it, but she could feel spiky fingers pushing out of her skin and something like a face pressing against her flesh.

An image flashed through her mind. A skull was grinning with glowing eyes and black claws were reaching from behind to embrace it. She had seen the image before. It was _his_ symbol—the symbol of her father.

She heard Gaelan and Jaheira shouting her name only after the pain had dulled and Kayl released her. She dropped to her knees, tears falling silently out of her eyes. Kayl knelt in front of her and held her head up by her chin.

"I will see you again soon," he promised.

And then he stepped away from her. His human features melted and a great, dark shape grew out of the dissipating flesh. A black dragon roared, wings beating the air as he rose into the sky. He loosed a rush of sickly-green and purple fire at the army amassed below, circled above their heads, and then breathed another bout of fire.

"Run!" Demin screamed.

Jayda twisted around to look behind her and saw Demin sprinting from the building. She was tugging Aerie along, her arm tightly in the priestess' grasp. Minsc and Gaelan were on either side of her suddenly, pulling her up by her shoulders. Jaheira gathered her weapons as Minsc scooped her into his arms and they raced after Demin. The dragon was circling overhead, screaming like a herald for murder.

/

When Imoen and Anomen arrived at the elven camp, it was swarmed with refugees, and there was an entire area dedicated to the dead. Gravediggers trudged back and forth between the pile of bodies and the sanctioned burial ground while the women and children not bedridden with injuries sang funeral songs.

"What happened here?" Imoen gasped as they rode up through the camp.

"I do not know," Anomen confessed.

Their ride from Athkatla had been long and hard. Truthfully, his injuries had only slightly healed and his body was still riddled with aches, but his determination had allowed him to push through the pain. Imoen's uplifting spirit had kept him from slipping into despair and he owed their arrival at the camp in part to her.

As they trotted along the muddy roads, they stared forlornly at the bodies littering the grass wet with dew and blood. Inside the tents, moans of the dying escaped through the flaps as nurses, healers, and attendees rushed in and out with blankets, jugs of water, linens, and herbs. Outside the tents, civilians huddled together for warmth as soldiers passed out fresh bread and warm soup, but there were few bowls to spare. It was clear the camp had not been prepared for so many refugees and supplies were dwindling fast.

They rode straight through to the tent where Elhan had spoken to them but found General Sovalidaas where he should have been. The general recognized them for he came out to greet them the moment he saw their steeds trotting up the hill. They dismounted and walked their mounts the rest of the way.

"I had thought Jayda's companions already beyond reach now," the general said.

"We were delayed," Imoen chirped.

"What has happened here? Where is she?" Anomen asked.

"Elhan led her and her friends into Suldanessellar not two days ago. The eve they arrived was to an ambush by the Drow. We lost many but were able to stave off the attack. That's when the refugees from Suldanessellar started arriving. The stories they tell… they are disheartening."

"We need to get inside the city," Anomen said. "We have to catch up with her."

"It is dangerous—" Sovalidaas began but Imoen cut him off by stepping closer.

"Listen, elf! You'll take us there and you'll take us now!" she huffed. Anomen drew her back.

"Please, General. We have to get to our friends. They need our help. Your city's survival may well depend on their success within. We are here to kill Irenicus. That is why we have come. You must help us help them."

Sovalidaas looked from one to the other before nodding. "The next garrison of soldiers is leaving to reinforce the gates in a few hours. You can travel with them. I must remain here and keep command."

"Thank you," Anomen said, relief and hope filling him once more. "Thank you."

/

Haer'dalis' head snapped up as Demin's door was thrown open and Minsc hustled inside, Jayda curled in his arms. He pushed past Elhan and the soldiers to lay her on the bed, and Jaheira and Gaelan immediately began removing her armor.

"What happened?" he exclaimed, hovering near her feet as he looked on in horror. She was paler than before, if it was possible, and her breathing was ragged. Her bright, amber eyes were shining even as her lids hung dully half-closed.

"Th-there was a dragon," Aerie stammered, upset. "H-he did something, s-something to her."

"What?" he balked, looking her over. He saw no wounds.

"He was disguised as a human," Demin explained. "He had the goblet. He wanted to speak with her. We didn't know."

"Jayda!" Gaelan exclaimed when she groaned. "What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong!"

Haer'dalis tore his gaze away from his red-headed muse long enough to see the expression on her thief lover's face: absolute love, complete terror, and sheer panic, though he handled himself with remarkable self-control.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, bringing the bard's gaze back to her. She lazily swatted at their hands as they pulled and tugged her cuirass off. "It's fine."

Gaelan ran his fingers over her back and suddenly froze, his fingertips having found something beneath her tunic that startled him. He controlled the trembling in his hand well as he went to lift up her shirt, but Haer'dalis clearly saw it. When the red tunic was lifted, there was a deep inhale of shock around the room.

On her back, branded into her flesh, was the grinning skull of Bhaal ringed with teardrops.

Gaelan's fingers gingerly brushed the mark, withdrawing when she flinched. The skin around the brand was shriveled and dead-looking, thread-thin black veins crawling away from the burned flesh. He yanked her shirt back down and held her when she turned to look at everyone. In spite of how tired her face was, how her eyes were half-lidded, the glow of power beneath her skin and irises did not abate.

"He marked me," she whispered and Gaelan nodded in affirmation. Effortless tears fell silently out of her eyes. "I already knew it. It was already there… long before now."

It wasn't long before she fell asleep. Demin instructed everyone to get as much rest as possible and promised healing prayers would be murmured all night. Haer'dalis nestled into his bedroll, watching Gaelan curl next to Jayda. He felt guilty for ever thinking he deserved the thief's place. After all, his appreciation for the chaos that surrounded her made this sudden branding an interesting twist in the beautiful tragedy that was her life and the song he would sing of her. How could he be worthy of loving her when he found all of her torments so lovely?

And how was it that a Doomguard who so valued and understood the cycle of entropy and death could be so terrified of someone's fate?

* * *

**A/N:** I took some liberty with the black dragon, obviously... because game-wise, it seemed to be just a tough fight to prep you for the toughest fight of all. The dialogue was somewhat silly, and it made little sense to me why a black dragon would be so easily controlled by and involved with Irenicus. So I hope the change doesn't throw you off too much. :) I decided showing more of ToB would play into it easily since I've already involved Bhaal and this idea of Jayda being his "heir" to foreshadow the Throne of Bhaal expansion. If I ever write it, I've at least set the sequel up.


	45. Irenicus

**Irenicus**

_Spare the wizard._

Jayda's heart was pounding in her chest as she raced for the Temple of Rillifane. Minsc was ahead of her, hacking away at the summoned fiends that dared attempt to slow their charge and Jaheira was off to the left battling skeletal warriors that tried to flank them. Jayda slid beneath a golem's burly fist as it came down to crush her and then she was back on her feet and running again. As a rakshasa charged her, one of Gaelan's arrows sank into its throat and she leapt over the falling body.

_Your father speaks so highly of you._

Haer'dalis and Demin ran to either side of Aerie. Elhan and his remaining soldiers headed up the rear, battling the pursuing patrols. They had decided that if they could just get into the Temple, they could barricade the doors and would have enough time to summon Rillifane. Unfortunately, they had stumbled across several patrols and the noise had alerted the enemy forces within Suldanessellar to their position.

_I am here to see you come into your glory._

Standing guard at the great jade gate of the temple were two rakshasa warriors and one rakshasa mage. Jayda gave a shout of frustration, noting how an arrow almost immediately pinned one of the warriors to the door through his head. Fire Tooth struck the mage in the chest and reappeared in her hand as she swung her silver sword to meet the second warrior. They danced around the platform while she tried to keep the warrior between her and the recovering mage. He was bleeding but not wounded enough to cease casting.

Two more arrows struck the door but missed live targets. Haer'dalis called her name and she ducked under the rakshasa's swing and rolled for the mage. Her bard leapt into the fight with the abandoned warrior while she stuck her sword and dagger into the mage's abdomen and slender stomach. He screeched and growled at her, whipping back and forth in pain. Jayda turned and loosed Fire Tooth into the warrior's back and two-handed her sword to chop the mage's head off.

_I can smell the death in you._

Haer'dalis finished his fight as her dagger reappeared in her hand and helped her push the heavy doors open far enough to create a gap large enough for a single person to go through.

"Demin!" Jayda shouted across the battlefield.

The elf was sprinting through unleashed magic and arrows, head down and arms held protectively over it. Elhan's men had spread out to form a perimeter around the temple's platform, reinforced by Jaheira, Minsc, and Gaelan's fierce prowess. Jayda pushed Demin inside first, Aerie next, and then ducked inside herself while Haer'dalis ran off to help hold the line.

A blast of energy landed right next to them, tearing up the ground into chunks and then traveling up the wall. Jayda tackled the elves to the ground and scrambled toward the statue in the center of the room, eyes wide and alert. Demin and Aerie crawled next to her and planted their backs against the statue.

"Stay… here…" Jayda mouthed to them, slowly standing. She looked around to find the culprit but could see no one. Her ears perked for some kind of noise but she heard only the battle outside.

_I can smell the Slayer in you._

Finally, there was the hint of tiny stones being crunched. Her head jerked in the direction, ears detecting the soft and slow tap of footsteps as they tried to sneak around toward the door. Jayda held her index finger to her lips, warning Demin and Aerie to be quiet, and then she, too, snuck around the central statue.

The room was so quiet, she barely allowed herself to breathe. And then another jolt of magic struck the statue, raining chunks of stone and clouds of dust to the ground. Aerie and Demin screamed and Jayda, ducking her head, used the noise to dart farther around the statue. Through the patter of falling pebbles, she heard the scuffling of feet and matched the pace, mimicking the stranger's footsteps. When it stopped, she crept to the end of the statue and peered around. There was a mage not ten paces away peeking around at Demin and Aerie's hiding place.

_With the wizard's death, so shall you claim your inheritance._

The mage jumped out and pointed his staff at the two elven women. "You are fools for coming here!" he exclaimed, and then he must've noticed there were only two of them, for his expression fell and his head snapped up in panic. Jayda spun around from the statue and loosed Fire Tooth. The blade stuck into his chest and forced the air from his lungs with a deep heave. The staff he carried slipped from his fingertips and clattered on the broken floor.

"Suneer," Demin whispered. "Why?"

But the life left his eyes before he could respond and he fell face-first into the ground. Fire Tooth returned to her hand and she snapped it onto her belt. When she went to help Aerie and Demin to their feet, the priestess looked at her somberly. Jayda wondered if it was anger or pity she saw there, or if either were just her imagination.

_You are so much like your father._

"Start the ritual," she rasped, passing Demin the golden goblet.

Demin looked up at the broken statue of Rillifane above them and then slipped to the back of the main room and swept her arm across the altar, clearing it of junk and debris. As she went about her prayers and incantations and laid each relic onto the altar, Jayda peered outside to see how the others were fairing. Her jaw clenched in frustration. The perimeter had been pushed back and was even closer to the temple now.

"Hurry!" she hollered. "We're out of time!"

As the lights in the temple began to shift hues, Jayda kept her eyes on the battle. There was a rumble in the platform that went from a mild tremble to a fierce shake in just a few seconds. Drawing her silver sword, Jayda was about to leap through the gap in the door when Demin stopped her.

"Jayda!" she exclaimed, and the Bhaalspawn turned to the center of the room. She gasped and stumbled back so she was pressed into the door.

The statue in the center of the room drew the leftover water from the pools scattered around the room into itself, and stone became bark. A flower bloomed at the base of the great oak that appeared and golden spores of light were released from the petals. They rose into the air and floated around the great tree that grew taller with every ounce of water that filled his mossy limbs.

Demin fell to her knees immediately and Aerie dropped next to her seconds later. The great tree stretched and, with every movement, rumbled deeply. There was a deep inhale and then the tree lowered its leafy head to look at Jayda. She assumed he was looking at her. The space where one might expect eyes was filled with spinning balls of water, continuously drawing liquid out of the ropy branches that looped and tangled together to form his facial features.

"Ahhhh," he sighed. His voice was deep, causing the very walls to tremble. "The Exile has returned. Mmmmmmm," he grumbled deep within his trunk. "Once again he commits his sacrilege against the Tree of Life."

"No! Mighty Rillifane!" Demin exclaimed, lifting her head out of supplication only to beseech her deity. "Can you save the Tree?"

The avatar of the forest god rose and shrank, rose and shrank with each slow and deep inhale. His limbs swayed ever so gently and his churning eyes rolled this way and that, splashing droplets onto the ground. Water ran as rivers down the valleys and cracks of his body, dripping onto the flower petals at his feet.

"Mmmmmm," he rumbled after a long moment. "The Exile protects himself… with power that corrupts nature. _I_ cannot touch him."

"What does he mean?" Aerie whimpered helplessly.

"The Exile seeks to join the Seldarine, as he did long ago when he was cursed," Demin explained. "He seeks to become a god by draining the power from the Tree of Life." Demin looked up at the Leaflord once more. "Mighty Rillifane, what of Ellisime, our queen? Has she been spared?"

"Mmmmmm." He drew a raspy breath through the jagged opening that was his mouth. "He holds she who is of my blood imprisoned within corruption. I can barely feel her now. Her spirit is… weak…"

"No! How could he?" Demin gasped.

"What?" Aerie asked, wide-eyed.

"He's using Ellesime's link to the Tree to drain its power. We must sever that link to stop him from killing the Tree."

"Yes," Rillifane agreed, but it was less of a spoken word and more of a bass whine of his branches. The pollen-like lights that hovered around him and mingled with his branches began swirling in a vortex. "Rise, spirits!" he boomed and the whole temple shook. "Rillifane Rallathil of the Seldarine calls you. Rise! Rise, spirits, and defend our children this day!"

The lights flew away from him and passed right through the walls of the temple as though they weren't even there, scattering amongst the city. Jayda remained where she was, back to the door, and stared at the great oak avatar of the Leaflord. She watched as his great trunk bent forward, branches sinking down to cover her, and he did not stop until his whirlpool eyes were directly in front of her, so close that she was being sprayed by the churning waters.

"You, mortal…" he began in his groan of a voice. "You despair. You sense your father in you. You bear his mark. Mmmmmmm." He tilted his mossy nose at her and sniffed. "Mmm, you bear resemblance, yes… but despair not, mortal. Your heart is not yet like his."

A single globe of light rose out of the flower and hovered along the great oak until it floated in front of Jayda's chest. Rillifane deeply inhaled and then gently blew. She felt a warm summer breeze caress her skin as the globe of light entered her body.

"The gates will open for you, mortal," he told her. "The fate of the Children of the Tree is in your hands. This was all I could do for you. I can do no more."

The Leaflord rose back to his full height. The flower at his feat curled up to be an unblossomed bud and the water that filled him dispersed as spinning streams of water, returning to their pools. As the water drained out of him, the mighty form of the avatar shrank back into a statue. Bark became stone, green became gray, and the flower disappeared altogether.

/

The sun was high in the sky and the sound of battle echoed through the forest when Anomen and Imoen rode up with the rest of the cavalry. They released their horses and joined the elves in a run up through the branches, quickly navigating the natural path until they reached the city. The battle was everywhere as far as the eye could see.

"What's happened?" one of the elves asked the man in charge as they rushed through the city gates and put their backs against the haphazard barricades. Magic assaulted the makeshift fort in screaming and colorful bursts while golems hurled chunks of stone over their walls and pounded against the gates.

"Elhan and the strangers went to the temple to invoke Rillifane!" the captain explained. "The Exile's whole army has mobilized to stop them!"

"Why remain here?" Anomen exclaimed. "Should we not be helping them?"

"We sent reinforcements, but someone had to hold the gates! By Elhan's instruction!" the captain replied. "They may have failed already! There's been no sign, and the bombardment is getting worse. We can't take much more of this!"

"Fire!" an elven soldier cried, causing Anomen to turn his head. They had collected one of the fragments thrown at them and sent it back over in a catapult. Another boulder came crashing down moments later, crushing two soldiers and then rolling into a fortified home and smashing through a corner of it.

Another rock was catapulted at the enemies. It sailed too high and crashed through a large branch, splintering it in half. The limb fell first, causing a rumble of chaos on the other side of the barricade. Then the platform above that was being partially supported by the felled branch began collapsing, and shouts of horror filled the air.

The tier they occupied shook when the stone and wood landed and they feared their own platform would collapse. After a moment, the shaking stopped, and the assault on the barricade ceased. The elves waited in the silence of a gasp, afraid to breathe, and then a shudder of relief worked its way through the resistance. They relaxed away from their walls for just a moment to better reinforce them and quickly repair the damage.

There was a great splintering off to the side perimeter and a host of golems crashed through, skeletons and fiends flowing in between their feet. The elves scattered, butchered in the surprise, and the ones who were far enough away to gather their wits had to collapse their barricades to escape into the city. The moment the walls came down, more monsters flowed into their camp. It was a slaughter as elves tried to scramble up the ramps and across the bridges.

Anomen and Imoen stumbled and ran with the flow, pushed and shoved in the mad panic to get to the next platform over. The golems behind them were causing so much shaking that the bridge they were on jumped several times. A couple of elves went over, screaming as they disappeared into the greenery below. When it jumped again, Imoen lost her footing and flipped over the rope. Anomen lunged and grabbed her, fighting the pain in his torso as she kicked and struggled and squealed in panic.

"Stay still!" he complained, straining to lift her. She obeyed for only a second and then began panicking.

"Anomen!" she cried, looking down the bridge. He followed her gaze and saw several skeletons coming their way, rusty swords held high over their heads. The elves that shared the bridge with them were running for safety, ignoring their plight.

"Just hold on!" he cried, letting go with one of his hands. He wasn't strong enough to hold her with one arm and his grasp slipped, causing her to scream as she dropped. He found a fold on her wrist, going down to one knee with the strain, and stretched out his free arm. "Helm," he murmured, "hear me."

The power rushed through his arm and surged forward like an invisible wave, knocking the undead creatures back across the bridge. Under the might of the gods, they disassembled into piles of bones and the golems stomping around crushed them into dust beneath their feet. Anomen hurriedly grasped Imoen with both hands again and pulled her over the rope. They scrambled across and, once on the other side, Imoen ripped her dagger off her belt and began sawing at the ropes.

"No time!" Anomen cried, pulled her away as she broke through the first rope. "They're coming!"

The left flank of the army was rushing up from another platform and storming theirs even as they tried to flee. Anomen tugged Imoen along as they made for a ramp up, but she was thrown to her feet, dragging him down to the ground. He looked back at her and saw the scorch marks of a spell on her armor.

"Imoen!" he cried, pulled her up.

"I'm okay," she promised, but it was too late. The horde was upon them.

Anomen whipped out his mace and pushed Imoen out of the way as a clay golem stomped over and brought his fist down to smash them. He struck the creature's knuckles and winced at the pain that spiked through his abdomen and sides. The golem reared back in shock, giving Imoen time to cast a spell that struck the creature in the chest. Anomen scrambled to his feet and struck the golem again as it tried to right its balance, causing both it and him to fall back onto the ground.

No sooner had the golem fallen than a massive beast with the head of a tiger pounced upon them, eyes gleaming and weapons flashing in the sunlight. Anomen blocked a few blows before his mace was batted away. Imoen rushed to his defense and he tried to warn her away but there was not enough time.

Suddenly a smoky blade was sticking out of the cat-beast's chest and armor. When it fell at Anomen's feet, an ethereal warrior with golden skin, flowing green hair, and solid emerald eyes stood before him, halfway sunk into the platform. As it rose up out of the stone, hundreds of spirits lifted out of the buildings and trees and tiers, turning their ghost-like weapons against the enemies.

"Be at peace, Children of the Tree," the hollow voices told them. "The Seldarine hear you."

The golems tried to crush these new foes, but their fists went right through their bodies. The cat-beasts attempted to spell them, but their magic dissipated against impossibly strong shields. The spirits of the Seldarine raised their weapons high and cut through the enemies with bloody precision, turning the tides of the battle until the army was on the run. The elves gave a cry of praise, raised their weapons high, and shouted thanks and glory to their gods.

"Are you okay, my lady?" Anomen asked Imoen when she came to help him to his feet.

"Have you ever seen anything like it?" she whispered in awe. He managed a small but brief smile.

"Not exactly," he admitted, wondering if the supernatural acts Jayda had committed counted. "Let's go!"

"Right," Imoen agreed, and they chased the masses deeper into the city.

/

The woodland spirits formed a protective circle around Jayda and her friends, and several raced ahead to kill any enemy that crossed their path. The palace gates—tall and elegantly forged from iron—were guarded with the last of Irenicus' army, but they fled in the face of the charging spirits. Elhan's resistance had spilled deeper into the city with their spiritual companions, startling the rakshasa into retreat.

Someone called out to Jayda but she didn't stop, didn't acknowledge or even recognize the voice. She kept going, taking deep breaths with every footfall. She threw herself into the gates, palm slamming into the barrier that sealed them. The light inside of her was released, rippling through the magical barrier and dissolving it with golden fire. And then the gates swung wide and Jayda and her companions raced up the winding walkway and burst through the ornate, cerulean doors.

Inside, the palace was empty. The soft, yellow-orange walls reflected sunlight streaming in through the rooftop made of greenery. Birds were chirping peacefully. As they crossed the marble floors carved to resemble the leaves above, they were astonished by the pristine and natural beauty seemingly untouched by Irenicus' evil.

They came to a giant oval room with a large fountain in the center. On either side was a statue. One held a stone harp, the other a horn. The pool had sunken in to form a spiral staircase leading down, and the waterfall poured down the open hole. Jayda inched closer and looked down, feeling a light sensation of vertigo. The drop was impossibly far down the great trunk of a tree. Jayda let her fingers skim the water as she debated how best to descend.

"The sacred tree," Demin whispered, coming up behind them. "The way is open."

"Who comes?" a voice called, weak and womanly. The apparition that appeared in front of the waterfall was of a tall and beautiful elf. Jayda instantly recognized her as the woman from her dream that warned her of Irenicus and the tragedy in Suldanessellar. "Who comes? Demin?"

"Ellesime!" the priestess cried, going to her knees in reverence.

"You," Jayda whispered, drawing the Queen's attention. "You were in my dreams."

"Ah," she sighed, her lovely brow wrinkled. She seemed so weak. "You are the Child of Bhaal, aren't you? You have come… You have come. I tried to reach you—used what power I had to call out to you. He boasted of killing you. I feared the worst…"

"Where are you, Ellesime?" Demin asked. "What is happening?"

"I am… at the base of the tree, trapped… beneath the tree. Parasites attached to it, draining it for him." She winced in pain and her image flickered. "Hurry. You must... stop them. Demin! Destroy the parasites… save… the Tree."

Ellesime cried out and, as she collapsed, her image faded. Demin gasped, shaking her head.

"No! Ellesime… We must hurry!" She got to her feet. "Jayda, beneath the tree is a chamber accessed at its base reserved for establishing deep connections to the Tree. That is where he holds her. Hurry! I will gather Elhan and the others to destroy these parasites! Go!"

As Demin ran off, Jayda gave her friends one last, long look as if to say, "are you sure?" Some smiled, some only nodded, but they readied their weapons and steeled their resolve. Jayda swallowed her emotion and took the stairs down.

The spiral ended at a great branch and they found themselves having to climb down branches and jump from one limb to the next. Above them, they could hear the frantic shuffling of the elves as they climbed down the tree and spread out to find the parasites. They had seen one on a distant branch as they worked their way down. It was a large, corrupted beetle-like creature; its legs burrowed deep into the wood while its mandibles nibbled away, drooling green sap. The farther down they went, the darker the forest became. Closer to the base of the tree, magical lamps were lit to illuminate the path.

Finally, they landed on soft grass. Lamps hung in rows to form a walkway into the center of the base of the tree. Between the massive, twisting roots were black hollows where one could look down. Steps formed from the dirt led downward into a dark room formed entirely by stones covered in moss. Beneath the tree, the roots were glowing. As Jayda and her friends spread out among the hollows to assess the situation, Gaelan grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He kissed her briefly but deeply, and said nothing. He just looked at her and that was enough. They joined the others by the roots.

A magical cage was at the core over an altar and inside hung Ellesime, suspended in magical bonds. Irenicus stood before her, eyes closed in a meditative trance. Jayda reached for Gaelan's bow and notched an arrow, taking aim even as hatred flooded her body. She narrowed her gaze on Irenicus' head and, at the last minute, lifted her arrow and released. It struck a root that wrapped around Ellesime's cage, causing it to snap off and shrink away.

"What?" Irenicus' head jerked up. "Who… who dares!"

"I dare!" Jayda hissed, and he turned to look at her as she jumped down into the chamber.

"You," he growled in disbelief. "You live _yet_? You have less than a fraction of your soul and yet somehow you _continue_ to oppose me?"

Jayda drew her sword and dagger. "You underestimate me, Irenicus."

"And you overestimate yourself!" he spat back. "You are too late, child of Bhaal! I have nearly completed my task and then I—" He stopped suddenly, face twisting into confusion and then outrage. He whirled around and watched as Ellesime's cage dissipated and she slumped to the ground. "The power… the power of the Tree is gone from me…" he whispered in astonishment. "I feel it slipping away. What have you done?" He turned his glare back to her, flexing his fingers for spellcasting. "This ends now. I will take great pleasure in eradicating such a nuisance as you. And I shall re-establish my link, join with the Tree once again. I shall find a way, I shall _have_ the power! And your efforts will have been for naught!"

As he reared back to strike at her, a frail voice stopped him.

"No…" Ellesime whispered. "No, Joneleth… don't…"

His complexion ran out of his face as he stiffened, eyes widened as though he'd seen a ghost, and his movements were like wood as he turned to face her. She was slumped on the mossy stone altar, fingers reaching weakly out to clutch the cracks and pull herself forward. Whatever elegance and strength this woman had once possessed had been drained out of her.

"Ellesime?" Irenicus barely whispered.

"Please, Jon… Do not do this… not again, not after you nearly destroyed us all. The Tree is beyond you now. Let it go, Joneleth…"

"Do not call me that!" he exclaimed, backing up as if trying to get away from a painful memory. "I lost all right to that name when the Seldarine stripped me of everything that was elven!"

"And what shall I call you instead?" she gasped breathlessly. "Irenicus? Shattered One?" The names only angered him more. "I know… It was a terrible punishment… but you had violated everything we hold dear! And for what? Power?" She pushed herself up, clutched at one of the tiny columns that surrounded the altar. "Is that all you exist for now, Jon? Power?"

"It is all I have now, Ellesime," he replied somewhat calmly. For just a moment, he had seemingly forgotten that Jayda was even in the room. "There is nothing else beyond my revenge. Revenge for what you did to me, what the Seldarine did to me!"

"And your revenge has poisoned your heart!" she spat. He only looked at her with empty eyes as if asking how she could have believed any different. Then, her angry face melted away and she looked upon him with desperate, pleading eyes. "The Tree touched you once, long ago… Do you remember nothing of it? Is there nothing in your heart that remembers love?" Tears filled her eyes. "Is there nothing within you that remembers _our_ love?"

"I…" His face hardened as he gazed upon her. "I do not remember your love, Ellesime." And the words caused the tears in her eyes to fall down her cheeks. "I have tried. I have tried to recreate it, recreate the places and the moments and the feelings where we were together, but I cannot! For years I clung to the memory of you and what we shared, then to the memory of the memory, and then to nothing! The Seldarine took that from me, too, and now I look upon you and feel _nothing_! I remember _nothing_ but you turning your back on me along with all the others!"

"You misremember so much!" she told him. "I begged you to see reason, but your thirst for power was everything! I remember you betraying me, forsaking our love. But I loved you still. Would that you had used your stolen mortal years to _earn_ your return to this sacred place! I could have loved you anew…"

"Once, perhaps… but the time for that has passed. For you and for me." He lifted his chin, the cold and empty mask of Irenicus returning. "Once, my thirst for power was everything. And now I hunger only for revenge. And I… WILL... HAVE IT!"

He turned on Jayda even as Ellesime gave a whimpered shout of "no" and he summoned a globe of protection to surround him. His muscular arms flexed as his hands came before him to prepare more spells.

"I shall crush you!" he exclaimed. "I shall crush them all! You are empty and dying, alone and powerless! Stand before all that you should have been and die!"

"She is not alone!" Minsc declared and he jumped down into the room to stand next to her. "For Dynaheir and all fallen comrades, for what is good and right! Go for the eyes, Boo! Go for the eyes!"

Jaheira jumped down next, a smile on her face. "And death will come on wings of song," she sang. "A song of long and winding guile, and in the end your end I wend," her quarterstaff was gripped tight and the end thrust out threateningly in the wizard's direction, "and in the end, a harp will smile!"

Gaelan, Haer'dalis, and Aerie dropped down to join her. Irenicus snarled at them and began weaving a spell.

"It matters not," he declared. "You will suffer! You will _all_ suffer!"

Jayda launched Fire Tooth at him as her friends rolled and scattered but the blade rebounded off his shield and was back in her hand. She rolled out of the way just as a ball of fire struck the space she had been standing. Minsc slashed the globe with a powerful swing of Lilarcor but his sword could not penetrate the magic.

"Breach!" Jaheira screamed.

Aerie's hands flashed and then suddenly Irenicus' protection went down. Jaheira rushed in and smashed his back with her quarterstaff, causing him to tumble forward. Gaelan launched a dagger at him that he barely managed to dodge. And then he had recovered and brought his defenses back up. His first task was to take out Aerie, but Minsc dodged in front of her and his back absorbed the harsh strike, knocking them both into the wall.

"Minsc!" Jayda exclaimed.

"I'm okay," he told her, pushing himself up and retrieving Lilarcor. He hunched for a moment, back scraped and bleeding, and then he recovered and charged in to attack Irenicus again.

The battle seemed to stretch on forever, though it likely lasted only minutes. They dodged magical attacks while looking for openings in his defenses. Aerie kept moving and it was everyone's job to protect her. Her breach spell downed his shields and allowed them to get a few hits in between shields. And though they did their best to avoid his strikes, they were not always fast enough. The fighting and running they had done earlier in combination with climbing down the Tree had been physically taxing and now they were exhausted.

Ellesime could do nothing to help them. She just laid there slumped against the column, staring in helplessness. She called out to them in warning should Irenicus nearly catch one of them off-guard, but that was the extent of her abilities. It was a wonder she was even conscious.

As Jayda rolled to dodge an attack, she felt something blast her off her feet. Irenicus had feigned his timing, catching her as she came up out of the roll. Even though her armor held strong, she felt the blood seeping between the cracks and knew she was injured.

"Jayda!" Gaelan called out to her as she tried to rise. Irenicus raised his hands to attack the thief, but Aerie's spell thrust took him by surprise. Haer'dalis danced in and placed two slices along the mage's back before he turned his angry glare upon the Avariel.

"Aerie, no!" Jaheira exclaimed, but it was too late. She had been vulnerable for a moment too long. The spell that caught her slammed her so hard into the wall, there was a loud crack and a bloody smear was left on the stones as she sank lifelessly to the ground. "Aerie!"

Minsc's roar seemed to shake the very earth.

"Aerie!" a man's voice gasped from among the roots. Jayda's head snapped up to see Anomen descending the earthen steps.

"Anomen?" Jayda balked in terror. "Get out! Get _out_!" The spell slammed into him and he crumbled into his chainmail, shield and mace clattering to the ground. "Anomen!"

He grunted but lifted his head, still alive. Imoen hopped down next to him and loosed a spell. For a moment, Irenicus was vulnerable and Minsc, lost in his berserker rage, capitalized on it. He hacked and slashed at the wizard's body, once managing to bury Lilarcor deep into his side. Irenicus growled and knocked Minsc back as Jayda forced herself to her feet. She ran to him but was not fast enough before his defenses came back up and he struck her in the chest with a bolt of energy. She screamed when she hit the ground and slid against the wall.

Irenicus slowly got to his feet, warping his dark magics beneath his fingertips. In a rage, he began slinging spell after spell in every direction, and eventually everyone was hit as they tried to dodge. Where he had found this energy was beyond them, but he had found it and unleashed it.

When the light show ended, Jayda coughed in the cloud of dust and slowly looked around. Anomen was sprawled, bleeding and in pain, with Imoen scraped and coughing next to him. Jaheira lay on the far side of the room, her staff splintered and half of it sticking out of her belly. Jayda coughed, choking on the dust and her tears. Haer'dalis was forcing himself to his feet, blood tricking down his glimmering armor. Aerie's body had been turned in the blast and her face was broken and smudged, lifeless. Minsc huddled next to her, one arm hanging limply at his side and the other reaching out to gently close the Avariel's eyes.

Gaelan. Gaelan was crawling toward her, as bloody and bruised as the rest of them. Tears dripped onto her hands as Irenicus slowly looked around to pick a target. She pulled herself to her feet. She let go of her restraint to let the Slayer off his chain, and the last thread of her self-control snapped.

"No!" she cried, voice cracking in despair. "Don't!" Something was convulsing through her, riding up through her lungs and throat and pouring out of her. Her fists clenched, breathing came in gasps and snorts, and something squeezed the inside of her stomach. She grunted. "Don't! Stay away… from them!" She cried out, resisted whatever was building up inside of her. It was hot, burning hot, like fire. It was overtaking her, distorting her hearing, interrupting her vision with black spots and streaks. "Stay. Away." The words choked out of her, the Slayer writhing beneath her skin, but he wasn't coming out. Even the Slayer was suppressed by this newness overwhelming her.

Jayda screamed, choked, and tears poured out of her. She tilted her head back and cried, shrieked, felt herself being undone by the power inside of her. It rattled her to the core, shook apart her organs and bones and broke open her flesh. There were voices joining with hers, people shouting her name, but all she could hear was a high-pitched screech.

Their faces flashed in front of her: Minsc's broad smile, Jaheira's coy smirk, Aerie's cheerful expression, Anomen's gentle face, Imoen's playful wink, Haer'dalis' knowing nod, and Gaelan… Gaelan's dark eyes and roguish grin stood out the most. She saw his serious expression as he made love to her, she saw his mouth open wide into a bright smile as he laughed, saw him gaze upon her in awe and love. She could see all of her companions' love and friendship and loyalty, see it shatter as Irenicus warped into her mind.

Jayda screamed and fell to her knees, felt the earth shaking and breaking apart. She saw their dead faces and lifeless eyes, each in turn. She would avenge them. She would destroy Irenicus for what he did to them! She would obliterate him!

_You are your father's heir._

And then all of the power she had built up was released. The black energy swept across the room and consumed everything in its path—Irenicus, her, her friends. The explosion of power destroyed everything, razing the earth around them until all was rubble and ruin and corpses and darkness.


	46. For Wooden Swords

**For Wooden Swords**

Jayda was floating in darkness, naked and alone. She had no recollection of how she got there, what she had done, or how long she had been that way; such thoughts did not even come to mind. She simply was in the darkness and the darkness was in her. There was nothing to see but her sight did not feel hindered. It was much like being in a room painted black—a room without walls, a ceiling, or floor—instead of standing in the absence of light. She still felt hollow and cold, but there was an internal tug that woke her to strange feelings—the feeling that she was incomplete and that the rest of her was somewhere nearby. But where in the darkness it was she did not know.

A figured moved in the black. She could see the movement but not the face or even the body—just a silhouette of a person. She wondered what else was hidden in the shadows of this magical darkness. The figure lurked like a great cat and she caught glimpses of the legs or torso moving, glimpses like that of a distant lighthouse in a thick fog.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice echoing in the endless space. "Where am I?"

The figure did not answer, only disappeared into the black. She could feel the presence slowly circling her, staring at her, waiting. At first, it drifted in and out, and sometimes she thought she was alone. After awhile, it became ever-present until she felt as though she would never be alone again. That was the moment when all of her memories returned to her awareness. She saw in flashes columns of black and dead-green energy rising out of the ground, saw her friends screaming in the rush of power, saw Irenicus—his terrified and shocked eyes staring at her just before he, too, was consumed.

Then she knew what she had done. She knew what had happened to her. She knew who was with her now.

"Bhaal," she whispered.

"Jayda." It was a whisper so quiet that it could have been an echoed scrape and not a word at all, but it sent shivers up her spine, shivers that turned into agonizing pain when it reached the brand between her shoulder blades.

"Bhaal?" There was no answer. She twisted in the darkness but the figure was always beyond her sight. "Bhaal!"

"I told you." The voice caressed her in the darkness. "You could not run forever. And now you have come to me."

"Am I dead?"

"Not yet." There was a long pause. "Far from it."

She was almost afraid to ask her next question, but it slipped out anyway. "And the others?"

The drawn-out silence was almost unbearable. She writhed internally, afraid to hear the answer, afraid the silence meant what she feared.

"They are beyond you now," was his reply. She was flooded with momentary relief.

"Why are you here? Aren't you dead?"

The voice in the darkness chuckled. "Not yet," he said again. "I live on in pieces… in pieces of all my children." He was suddenly behind her, pressed up against her back. She could even feel his breath on her neck and shoulder. "There was no way you could run from me, Jayda. I have always been with you." Somehow, she knew that what he said was true. She closed her eyes. "Spare the wizard, denounce my throne. Kill him and embrace it," the voice hissed. "You brought yourself here. You have come to me at last. My heir."

A hole opened up in front of her, far away in the darkness, and a bright light shone through. It was getting brighter, coming towards her. With Bhaal at her back, his fingers curled possessively around her shoulders, his head next to hers, she couldn't escape. She felt the brand on her back burning so fiercely, she began to scream. The skull became bone and rose out of her skin, eyes glowing brightly. Claws burst out of her flesh to clutch the skull as the light rushed up to meet her.

"It is time for your trials," Bhaal whispered.

"I will fail," she muttered, voice raspy and jaw clenched from the pain. "I am not your heir. I won't be another tool for your slaughter."

"You know nothing of who I am or what I want, daughter."

And then she was falling into the light.

/

Jayda opened her eyes and was staring at a dark red sky. Had it all been a dream, one horrible dream? Irenicus, her losing control, Bhaal in the darkness, and this place with that horrible bloody sky—had she dreamed it all? She could smell something burning, could smell the smoke and the sulfur. She pushed herself up and looked around.

The ground was dark brown and fractured into a honeycomb pattern like a dried up, desert riverbed, and yet it was hard as stone, and rough like it, too. She looked beyond her platform and saw swirls of clouds caught in harsh winds whipping about, but they blew beyond the platform where she stood, as though she were trapped in an invisible bubble. The air around her was calm without even the hint of a breeze. A large statue of a goat-like figure loomed over her and beyond it was a bridge so thin that she would have to put one foot directly in front of it to cross. It spammed across a chasm of bottomless darkness.

She wore her Shadow Armor. On her sides were the silver sword and Fire Tooth. She reached up and ran her fingers over the hilt of her sword and felt the solidity of it. She drew the weapon. Of all the things in the world, she knew the weight of her weapons and the feel of them in her hands. Wherever she was, it was real.

Jayda inched across the bridge. Waves of vertigo assaulted even her dexterous senses and it seemed a lifetime before she reached the other side. A round building made of the same brown, fractured stone rose before her. It was so wide that it touched the edge of the platform and was impossible to go around. At the top of the structure, menacing gargoyles clawed over the edge, all staring at her in frozen anger. She reached out and touched the giant black door, old and worn and made of wood. It was chipped and nicked, and the iron hinges and knockers looked weathered. When she reached out and grabbed one of the circle handles, it flaked. She pulled as hard as she could and the door groaned as it slowly opened, long and low and deep.

She inched inside and the door slammed shut. The area she had entered looked to be an arena of sorts, littered with bones on the gentle undulating plain of combat. Black spots sprinkled the earth and strange plant-life struggled to grow in scattered patches, brown and withered and sharp-looking.

"So we meet again," a familiar voice said, bringing her attention to the center of the arena. "How fitting that our reunion should be in this place of retribution."

"Sarevok…" she whispered, shocked. "This is an illusion…"

"It is not," he assured her with his deep voice. "My essence joined that of our dead father after you murdered me… but, in the end, all the Children of Bhaal end up here. You have finally joined us, _sister_," he spat in disgust, "to claim your heritage as I had attempted." He began to pace in front of her. Donned in his spiky armor with his sword unsheathed and held at his side, he looked as though he were a gladiator waiting for her to attack. "A pity that you arrive in pieces, weak and pathetic."

"Where are we? Where is this?"

He snorted. "You do not know? This is Bhaal's realm," he waved his sword, "and since your essence has not joined with our dead Father, that means you are still partly alive… But why?" He frowned and tilted his head back, inhaled deeply. "Yes, I can feel your loss. I sense your soul close by but it is not within you. You have come to reclaim what you have lost. But even so, your blood holds sway here."

"How is this possible?" she whispered, inching toward him. "I watched you die—I killed you."

"Have you heard nothing?" he barked. "You have _power_ here, though it is undeserved. Rule of this realm was rightfully _mine_, and had I spitted you on my blade as easily as that pathetic wizard, Gorion, our positions would be reversed now!" Sarevok bellowed, stomping toward her, and Jayda's fingers curled into fists at the mention of her foster father. His olive skin and dark eyes had lost their luster in death but he was the very man she remembered fighting in Baldur's Gate. "Is that what you expect me to say?" he asked, temper suddenly quelled. She frowned, suddenly caught off-guard and confused. "If only it were true, but in death much is understood that once was veiled…"

"What are you saying?" she whispered.

"The path to our legacy was paved in blood, that is what Alaundo seemed to say… but the path to our father's 'love' was not what we thought... what any of us thought."

"We?"

"The other Bhaalspawn. Murder, ruin, death, genocide—these were the sacrifices made in our father's name! To earn our place on his throne. I knew who I was and I came into my identity as I believed he would require. But it was not so. All of my efforts were merely to test _you_. It seems that fool Gorion's sheltering of you actually molded you into the perfect heir."

"No, that's not possible. Gorion _saved_ me! Without his protection, I would've become you. I would've become a murderer, a warmonger! I would've embraced my heritage!"

"You became exactly what Bhaal was looking for," Sarevok assured her. "You fought against your nature, denied it, and refused to embrace it. And yet this made you stronger on your own, without the power. And every life you took was that much sweeter. You did not want to kill, you tried to live your life well, but the taint could not be ignored… and so hundreds of people died at your blade. Fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters… You killed them trying to free yourself, killed them with your idealistic sense of justice, but they were murdered all the same."

"No—"

"You said it yourself, sweet _sister_, that the why never matters, only the outcome! And here is the outcome: thousands of souls for our father's glory! And now you have earned his 'love' and you do not even want it." Sarevok stared at her and his face was impossible to read. "If only I had been sheltered as you were… I might've had a chance to earn our father's approval… or perhaps to have been free of it entirely."

Jayda's foot slipped forward as she leaned toward him. "Sarevok?" she rasped, wondering what the sadness in his voice meant. She still wasn't entirely sure if she was dreaming, if he was an illusion, or if this was all somehow real. Regardless, this was not how she imagined the reunion with her brother might go.

"How could it be you—someone so undeserving?" He glared at her. "And yet he chose you. But you could never wield this power. You are too weak to do all that is necessary, to take for yourself what is yours by birthright! You would squander it running, denying all that you are. You could not even hold on to your soul! You are empty and dying!"

"What right have you to judge me, Sarevok?" she spat, anger flaring. "I may be dying, but you are _dead_ and I killed you!"

"Ahhh, yes…" he hissed, smiling. "Stoke that infernal wrath of yours. I can feel the anger within you—I can feel the rage boiling inside you, boiling in your heart! The taint that surrounds your soul like a serpent, squeezing, spreading its venom—that taint, that wrath that exists in all the Children of Bhaal! I can feel all of that in you as it once consumed me! I can feel the Slayer in you, the avatar of our dead father, the blackest expression of murder. I see it behind your eyes." Sarevok suddenly took his great sword in both hands and bore it in front of him. "Summon your wrath for me… if you can."

"Never," she whispered.

"You deny you've become the Slayer?" He laughed at her. "Your flesh reeks of its taint!"

"Not now. Not for you, not for this..."

Jayda remembered crying over his corpse, remembered the life leaving his eyes. She remembered feeling a bond of kinship with him only after he lay lifeless at her feet. As she looked at him now, she could not bring herself to hate him—not anymore. It was as though she had been given another chance, a chance to speak with Sarevok as her brother and to tell him… to tell him what? He had killed Gorion! He had tried to kill her! He had sliced her open and left her for dead then skewered her foster father like a pig! He had destroyed her world and thrown her into the turmoil of the truth of her heritage. But he had never really had a chance, had he? He had taken Gorion from her… but his parentage had taken everything from him. He was her brother. He was flesh and blood. Once, long ago, might he have embraced her as a sister? Once… was there ever a chance he would have smiled at her, put his arm around her, called her 'sister' without venom dripping from his words?

"If you are to reclaim all that you are, you must pass our father's trials," he growled.

"I won't become the Slayer to do it!"

Sarevok glared at her, enraged. "You are the one who brought _me_ here! Your power over this place has summoned forth _my_ essence once again," he barked. "And why do you think you have done that?"

"Because I need you to forgive me, brother…" she whispered. The words just popped out before she even realized it. Sarevok's eyes widened in shock, sword slowly lowering, and he stared at her for a long time before his brows knit together in a frown and he shook his head.

"It is too late for such things… for me and for you." He lifted his weapon again. "Let us end this in the only way we know how. Let us give our father one last show to be proud of."

"No, I don't want to—"

But Sarevok did not give her a choice. He charged her, screaming, and swung hard. She barely got her sword up in time to block. Her feet shuffled in the dirt, kicking up dust and crushing pebbles beneath her boots. His swings bat her blade from side to side effortlessly and she barely managed to bring the silver sword back up again each time to divert another blow. How did he get so strong? Or had she just gotten weaker with the loss of her soul and the endless combat she found herself in? He had always been a fierce warrior, but her dexterous build had allowed her to find his openings and exploit them. Now, she saw nothing.

Perhaps, it was because she did not want to fight him this time?

In the year since she had first been cut open by Sarevok and witnessed Gorion's death at his hand, she had stewed on her hatred of him. It had kept her focused through all hardships, all surprises, all sorrows. Even when she had discovered she was a Bhaalspawn, she had managed to push through her shock by reminding herself over and over again that the only task that mattered—the only _truth_ that mattered was that Sarevok deserved to die. And she would kill him for what he did, for what he was doing, for what he would one day do.

Then she discovered that the man she sought to destroy was her brother, and something small inside of her changed. Now, here she was fighting him once again, but she couldn't muster enough hatred in her heart to destroy him.

"Stop fighting me!" she cried, but he only came at her harder. "I don't want to do this!"

"Your past is full of things you did not want to do, and so is your future!" He bore down on her harder and she was forced to attack him or be cut down. "And yet you did them!"

"I _had_ to!" she shouted, slipping under his arms and jabbing at an opening in his side. "I had no choice!"

"Yes!" he agreed. "If you do not like it, kill me! Become stronger and take the power owed to you! Become a god and be the one to make the choices! Or…" he glared at her as he charged her, "die now and be free of the responsibility!"

Jayda screamed, momentarily lost in her frustration. Could those really be her only choices? Die or become everything she hated? She heard someone yelling "no" over and over again, saw the flash of metal striking metal, and then the blur of blood and spikes. She stopped herself moments before landing the killing blow, and stared down at Sarevok on the ground. Her weapons clattered by her feet and then she knelt at his side.

"Sarevok!" she gasped, looking for his injuries, looking for a way to help him. "I didn't want this… I didn't mean to…"

"You leave yourself open?" he spat, blood on his lips. She frowned at him, wondering why he was still in the battle in spite of losing his weapons. Suddenly he flew up at her, face inches from hers, and Fire Tooth was had found an opening in her armor and was pressing against her back. "I could kill you easily."

"Then do it," she mumbled. "This is where I belong, isn't it? I don't belong up there with the living, with the innocent. I belong here with you… with father. If anyone is going to kill me, it should be you, brother. For revenge. For the games we children should have played when we were young, with wooden swords and driftwood shields on the banks of a river outside of town, for the games we were forced to play as adults, fatal and unforgiving..."

She stared hard at him, tried to find a feature like her own. But there was nothing, no resemblance at all. And she was glad for it. Had there been one, it would have been a feature given to them by Bhaal, and she couldn't stand the thought of looking like _him_. She had always imagined Bhaal looked something like Sarevok, but she shared no characteristics with her brother.

"It is too late for things like that," he whispered. "For me… and for you."

"Only if we believe it."

Her gaze drifted down from his eyes to his lips, at the blood smeared on them, and could feel the draw in that blood, could feel the familiarity. That was how she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he was her brother. His blood was the same as hers. There was no mistaking it.

"You're giving up so easily?" he asked her.

"I'll never give up," she replied quietly.

All of a sudden, Fire Tooth's point was no longer pressed against her skin. Sarevok remained close and, for the first time since their fateful meeting, she did not see anger or hatred in his face.

"You knew I wouldn't do it?"

"I hoped," she told him. "But I don't solely gamble when I know I can win. I had to trust in you, even if I was wrong in the end."

Sarevok stared at her for an endless passing of time, or so it felt with him so close. They had never been this close before. It was familiar, intimate, vulnerable—all of the things she had never imagined experiencing in his presence.

"I saw you once," he said, "when you were just a little girl. I was still a young man when I visited Candlekeep to read for myself Alaundo's words. I spent many months in your libraries, dressed as nothing more than a nameless monk, a stranger in robes. One day, I saw you walking the narrow wall. Your balance was perfect for someone so small. Imoen trailed behind you, clumsy and slow. She tripped and fell, and you immediately dove to catch her. Your shirt fell over your head and I could see your skinny body, your ribs through your skin, the tiny muscles in your arms straining to hold her weight. But it was the look on your face that assured me you would pull her up or fall with her."

"I remember…" she mumbled in awe. He really had been there, just feet away from her and she never knew, never even suspected.

"I knew who you were. I knew you were my little sister. For a split second, I longed to jump up on the wall with you. Instead, I left so that I could come back and kill you…"

Sarevok reached out and flattened his palm on her cheek. She felt something hard between their skin… and then she was in agony, screaming as he held her tightly to him. He pulled her closer into a hug, his cheek against her temple, his hand still holding that object to her face. It was sinking into her flesh, being absorbed, and her back was on fire. The stone forced its way out of her body again, to fill in one of the tears that surrounded the brand of Bhaal's skull on her back. The pain ebbed and she slumped in her brother's arms, gasping.

"A tear fell for every murdered soul, every torment paid by our father, and he kept each one," Sarevok whispered to her. He held her out to look at her once more, and the color was draining out of his face as the blood leaked into a pool around them. He touched her cheeks again, smeared red on them, and then she helped lower him back to the ground. "I would have traded this steel sword for a wooden one… sister."

Jayda shook with her sobs, hiccupping and coughing as the tears poured out of her. How many times was she destined to cry over this man's corpse? How many times was she destined to kill him? She had had enough of both. She laid her head on his chest, arms thrown across him protectively, and wailed. Sarevok managed to gently lay his hand on her back before he died a second time.

/

Sarevok's body was cold and so was she by the time she peeled herself off of him. Jayda gently touched his closed eyes, his cheek rough with stubble, his tattooed forehead. She told him to rest peacefully and to look forward to the day she would join him.

"The day will come soon," she promised. "I am not long behind you…"

She unbuckled his gauntlets and fit them over her leather bracers. The top descended over her knuckles and spikes protruded along the sides, making her forearms look large and heavy, but the metal was surprisingly light. She gathered her weapons and forced herself to stand. Her legs felt wobbly and she was tired, drained of not only her energy and strength but of her emotions and willpower. Still, she found herself moving forward to the gate at the far end, and somehow she managed to not look back.

When she opened the door, a twisting path between two mountains stretched before her. The sky was a darker shade of crimson and lightning streaked angrily overhead in long and bright flashes, dividing the sky. She took one step and then another until she was walking down an endless road. Sometimes, she had to proceed shoulder first to slip between the narrow path where the mountains angled out too far. Other times, she had to duck and even crawl, and twice she had to climb over a chunk of rock that had overtaken the passage. As she progressed, strange lumps had grown out of the stone—yellowed domes she could only assume were some kind of plant. Many of them were split in the center, revealing a burgundy disk. Jayda thought they looked like a diseased version of the center of a sunflower, like eyes in the mountain watching her as she walked.

It seemed to her that she walked on for days, but the sky never changed and the atmosphere never grew hotter or colder. She found herself sweaty and thirsty, but the rest of the world remained dry and quiet. She began to wonder if this was real after all or if she was trapped in some terrible vision or nightmare? She had once dreamt of the night she killed Sarevok. Perhaps she was only dreaming again, unconscious after releasing so much power to stop Irenicus. Maybe she was wandering the border between life and death, stuck in an endless loop of torment for her sins.

No matter how she tried to explain it, she could not shake the feeling that this was all real. Bhaal had come to her, spoken to her, and she knew better than to believe it had been false. Then there was her reunion with Sarevok. In all of her wild fantasies, his forgiveness was never something she had dreamed of wanting or of asking for. But he had called her sister, called her sister without sarcasm or hatred or disgust in his voice. She could never have made that up, never would have imagined something so impossible.

Where was she? Sarevok had told her. _This is Bhaal's realm…_ And Bhaal, he had told her what to expect, hadn't he? _It is time for your trials_. She was not dreaming. Jayda suddenly stopped and stripped her chest piece off, reached back to feel beneath her shirt. There on her back, between her shoulder blades, a hard stone had surfaced on her skin and filled one of the tear shapes surrounding the gnarled brand of Bhaal's symbol. A Tear of Bhaal.

"I must face the trials," the whispered to herself, looking back the way she'd come. "Sarevok was my first trial. I passed."

But had she passed? Why? How? By killing him? Was that the answer? But she hadn't wanted to, had stopped herself before she could land the killing blow. Even though he was there to goad her into turning into the Slayer and killing him, she had refused. They had even… shared a moment of kindness.

Jayda strapped her armor back on and began sprinting down the passageway. She didn't know the rules of this game or the outcome, but she knew she had to play. And suddenly, as if having a direction had changed this realm, the path ended. It opened up to a small dead end. Two black cave mouths were set into the far wall, side by side. She frowned at them, wondering what kind of trick this would be.

"You finally arrived, Child of Bhaal," a hoarse voice said from behind her. She whirled around to see an old hermit dressed in the colors of the granite and mud walls hobbling up behind her, blending in with the background. His hood was pulled low to cover his face, knobby and spotted and wrinkled hands clutching his walking stick tightly as he struggled to take each step. "Come for the Tear, have you? Yes, of course you have."

"Come to get through this nightmare," she corrected him. The hermit lifted his bony index finger into the air and nodded.

"Yes, yes. Two goals, two paths, same journey, same end. To survive or to excel, sometimes they are true in the reverse. But no matter, always are there two. Two to represent the many. There are hundreds of paths, thousands of possibilities, but it started with a decision… one decision stemmed from two possibilities. And you have made many, many choices on the journey that was your life, on the journey that brought you here, to a new journey, to a new decision."

"What is your point, Hermit?" she asked, anxious to proceed.

"Many paths have you taken, and now you must take a new one. The tunnels!" He motioned to them and Jayda looked at the two ominous black mouths in the mountainside again. "On the left, the tunnel has a bridge, but that bridge is out. If you cross, you will fall to your doom. The other tunnel has a path across… but it is a most deadly venture."

Jayda turned to face the opening, wetting her lips as she pondered the situation. What kind of test was this? Was it a trick? Both paths seemed perilous; one she was doomed for immediate failure and the other would likely kill her before she reached the end. Was it a measure of faith or belief?

"However… there is one who might walk this path for you," the hermit said, causing her to turn back to face him. The pirate lord Desharik was standing at his side and Jayda flinched, hardened herself, prepared for a fight as she rolled over her shock at seeing him there.

"What's going on?" the pirate exclaimed, looking about startled. He shuffled to and fro like a frightened animal. "What happened to me? Where am I?"

"You are in the Nine Hells, pirate, at the whim of the daughter of Bhaal," the hermit explained, amusement in his tone.

"The hell I am!" he barked.

"What's he doing here?" she snapped while Desharik barked and growled and demanded answers. None were given, and she was unable to take her eyes off of him. He stared cruelly at her, afraid but angry.

"He is here to serve you."

"The hell I am!" Desharik exclaimed again, pointing at her. "You! Witch! You brought me here? I'll kill you like I should have done!" When he tried to charge her, the hermit side-swiped him with his walking stick, knocking him to the ground with a magical smack.

"Why?" Jayda asked the hermit. "Why him?"

"Because he was chosen. Child of Bhaal, your choices have always had an effect on the world and the people in it, on the people around you, whether they are involved with you or not. Such is the fate of those born with destiny." The hermit angled his face up just enough that she could faintly see his wrinkled mouth and the rotten teeth between his lips. "Send the pirate to the other side. Allow him to lower the bridge for you."

Jayda shuffled from one foot to the other, trying to focus on the hermit but unable to draw her gaze from Desharik, wary of him. He looked just as he did the last time they met—fuming and bruised and strong. He narrowed his gaze on her, silently taking in the situation.

"You said the path was deadly," she said.

"Quite excruciating, I am told," the hermit replied, "but you are the one who must go on… not him, not this pirate. This is your destiny. Allow him to help you achieve it." He smiled at her when she did nothing but stare. "You hesitate? He is nothing. He is a vile man who kills on a whim, who tortures and torments those who slight him. He tried to rape you. To kill you. He deserves nothing less than pain."

"No," Desharik said, pushing himself out of the dirt and getting onto his knees. "You're going to kill me? I did nothing to this bitch! Look at her—she's alive!"

"You will do as the Child of Bhaal commands," the hermit told him.

Jayda looked at the black mouth of the tunnel and then back at Desharik, watching as the color drained from his face. She hated him. He had made her feel vulnerable and weak, reminded her of how mortal she was. He had so easily overpowered her and she had never managed to have her proper revenge. But that had been a lifetime ago. She had been through so much since. The Slayer would have ripped him to pieces with ease, could still do it. _You let him go_, she reminded herself. _You could have killed him and you didn't. _She could have her revenge now, but did it matter anymore? She had been through too much to care about him.

"I don't want his help," she snapped.

"Then do not pretend it is such," the hermit said without skipping a beat. "Let him be your sacrifice."

"I don't want his sacrifice!" She was more determined now. For a moment, she had wavered, thought of putting him through the fire, but in spite of how much she hated him, how horrible a creature he was, he had nothing to do with this. And now, he had nothing to do with her. Nor she with him. "I don't want his blood on my hands—not his, he isn't worth it! This is my problem. I go." Jayda started to walk toward the cave mouth but the hermit's words stopped her.

"You cannot do it all on your own," he said and she stopped dead in her tracks. The hermit thrust his staff out and took a magical hold on Desharik's neck, lifting him to his feet and herding him toward the cave mouth. "Are you so proud you would not accept aid from those you hate when it's needed? Or do you think that you can do anything and everything all on your own strength?"

Of course not. She had done nothing on her own strength. Every step of the way, her friends and companions had been there with her—if not in body then in spirit. Their strength had gotten her through every time. Just the thought of them now renewed her. But was this about pride? Was this about refusing his help because of what he'd done to her? She frowned at Desharik, at his scowl, and listened to his cursing and raving.

"I don't think that," she replied and headed for the tunnel again. "But he does not go willingly. If he did, I might accept his help. But I will not force him. That is not who I am. He is who he is, as vile and worthless as that is, and I will not make him suffer in my place. I won't have his blood on my hands."

As the hermit protested and Desharik screamed behind her, Jayda charged into the blackness and was immediately hit with a force that brought her to her knees. She cried out and it was all she could do to push herself back up. Gravity had turned on her and she thought she would never be able to pick herself up off the floor. Eventually, she got to her knees then back to her feet and began sliding forward. There was something electric in the air, popping and crackling. At first, she felt nothing but sharp shocks and pricks, and then her whole body began to sizzle with electric currents. She shook, teeth chattering, as every step became harder and harder. She pushed on in the darkness, wondering how far it was to the other side.

Jayda screamed, vision blurring as she was brought back to her knees, and then to her hands, and soon she was crawling. Spittle dribbled from her lips as she strained, reaching out in slow motion with trembling limbs and clawing at the shallow grooves in the ground. Groaning, she pulled herself forward. Her body twitched, causing her to lose her hold more than once, as she was zapped over and over again with the stray electricity.

"Help…" she gasped, "me… please…"

But there was no one to help her. She couldn't ask her father or brother. One was the reason she was there suffering and the other she had killed. Her friends were dead, too, and gone. They wouldn't have come to this place, to this hell. She was alone.

Jayda felt the tears being pulled out of her like her saliva, and she tried to sniffle them back but it was hard just to take a breath. Just when she thought her bones would snap and muscles give up, she reached out one more time and pulled.

The weight was lifted and suddenly she could breathe again, rolling off of the stone path and down a few steps onto a cold floor. She coughed and gasped, lying still. Her body ached, her skin felt raw, and she couldn't find the energy to lift her head. After many cold, quiet moments passed, she finally found her strength to stand.

The hermit shuffled out of the darkness to meet her as she slowly limped toward the only exit—another cave mouth that led deeper into the mountain.

"A selfless act," he rasped, "from one who willingly shoulders the burden of destiny and its effect upon others… is most unbecoming. Self-sacrifice, Child of Bhaal, will kill you one day… but today, it has made you stronger. The tear is yours."

He extended his wrinkly hand and in his palm was a stone tear. Jayda clenched her jaw, afraid of what would happen when she grasped it. Just as it had with Sarevok, pain rippled through her as the rock was absorbed into her skin. This time, she felt clearly as it forced its way through the flesh on her back and became another stone tear around the branded skull. When it was over, Jayda managed a jerky nod to the hermit and shuffled past him into more darkness and to another trial.


	47. The Face of Bhaal

**The Face of Bhaal**

It was the sounds of battle that set her to running. She sprinted through the cave, dipping in and out of low torchlight; iron sconces lined the caves far apart, barely lighting the narrow space. The closer to the fight she got, the more her heart began to pound. The shouts and growls that, from far off, had sounded like normal battle exclamations now were unearthly garbled barks. What kind of enemy was she charging into? Jayda yanked her silver sword and Fire Tooth from her belt and slowed to a brusque walk as the cavern came into view. She ducked into shadow and surveyed the scene.

Demonspawn, for that was all she could think to describe them as, were gathered in front of a rocky ledge on the far side, jumping and waving their crude weapons at a man cowering above them. Looking closely, she could see he was chained up there. Arrows occasionally flew up at him and clattered against the rock, some missing him by inches and others by feet. The demonspawn tried climbing on top of one another to reach him, but sooner or later the clumsy tower fell back into the black mass of bodies.

She studied her enemy for a moment. They resembled black-skinned orcs in build, and were covered with rusty, spiked armor over black leather and menacing helmets that hid their faces and muffled their dark speech. Some were shorter than she was, others twice her size, but they were all ferociously bulky.

She looked around for some way up to the trapped man, but there were no pathways and no side chambers. She couldn't possibly take on the swarm of demonspawn on her own, and, with no doors to escape through, the way forward had to be behind the trapped man. There was a pillar in the center of the room that had a couple of shoddy weapons stuck into it—mostly broken arrows and axes, but halfway up was a spear stuck fast. If she could get up to that spear with enough momentum, perhaps she could swing out to the ledge. It would be tricky, but the alternatives were worse.

Jayda sheathed the silver sword, took a deep breath, and charged into the room. The demonspawn did not notice her until she slit the nearest one's throat, stepped back, and used him as a jumping point. She hopped off of him onto someone else's shoulders and then onto another's helmet. She leapt up, loosed Fire Tooth into the far ledge, and grabbed the spear. The demonspawn below her growled and shouted and jumped in surprise, gathering around the pillar. She swung forwards and backwards twice, feeling the spear loosen on her third swing. She released and flew across the gap as the weapon slipped out of the pillar and cracked on someone's helmet. Jayda grunted as she hit the ledge, catching herself on Fire Tooth's hilt.

The man above her leaned over the edge, offering his hands. He kept ducking his head as more arrows plinked near him, eyes averted as his hands desperately groped for her. She caught his wrist and was hauled over the edge, feeling a misfired arrow rebound off of her armor. When they were over, they rolled away from the edge and laid there gasping for breath.

"That was amazing!" the man told her, rasping. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"Don't expect a second show," she replied, winded. "That trick only works one time out of a hundred."

"Who are you?" That's when he tilted his head toward her as she carefully sat up. "You're the Child of Bhaal! You're here. You've finally come!"

Fire Tooth reappeared in her hand and she clutched it as she belly-crawled toward the ledge to get a better view at what was happening below. "What are they?"

"Denizens of the Nine Hells," he replied.

"What do they want?"

"Me," he said, and she looked back at him. Long chains extended from his wrists and ankles and were bolted into the ground.

"What do they want with you?" she asked, and he shrugged. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, my lady."

"You're chained."

"Yes. I cannot leave this place without your help," he explained. Jayda nodded and crawled over to him. She struck the chain twice with her blade before he stopped her. "I'm afraid that won't work, my lady. Only one blade can release me from these binds. A special blade."

Jayda looked up at him and saw him for the first time. He was young, with tanned skin and dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. He wore a simple tunic and vest with patched pants and worn sandals. His clothes were shades of brown, torn and dirty. He looked so utterly average that it was disarming. What was someone seemingly so important doing in a place like this, trapped? She tried to remind herself that this was just another one of Bhaal's tests, but Sarevok had been real… Desharik had at least acted real in his terror and shock at finding himself in such a place. Could this boy, too, be a real person brought here at her dead father's whim to test her?

"Who are you? How long have you been stuck here?"

"Just a prisoner of this place, my lady, who has been here as long as he can remember. I am a genie of another plane. You may call me Azran, for that was what my friends called me back home."

She quirked one of her brows. He didn't look like any genie she had ever encountered. "If you're a genie, can't you just use your power to destroy them?"

"These chains render me powerless," he confessed, "and curse me to this vulnerable shell. I appear before you a humble mortal, not fit for the presence of the ruler of this realm, but it is by your hand I will find my release, my lady, and then I shall honor you in the way you deem fit."

"I don't rule this realm," she told him, crawling back toward the ledge. This time, he crawled with her.

"You are the daughter of Bhaal. This realm is yours as much as his."

"How do I release you?" she snapped, wanting to quickly change the subject. "Does one of them have the special blade?"

"No, my lady," he replied. "For that, you must look higher."

She followed his gaze up to the top of the central pillar and saw the topmost part of a hilt. The sword must have been stuck in the stone. "How am I supposed to climb that?"

"There are nooks and grooves in the stone that you cannot see unless you are looking for them, my lady. The creatures below are quite distracting in that regard." He suddenly looked somber. "I'm afraid you will have to kill them. One of them holds the horn that will open the passageway out of this place."

"Okay…" she mumbled and readjusted herself to get into a good throwing position. She sighed and loosed Fire Tooth, watching as it sunk fast between a helmet and spaulder to catch a demonspawn in the neck. He stumbled in shock and her dagger returned to her hand. The creature wavered for a moment and then recovered, jumping and raving and waving his mace. "What? That's not possible."

"I'm afraid normal weapons can't kill them, my lady," Azran told her sadly.

"Stop calling me that. My name is Jayda."

"All the same, my lady," he said and she glared at him. "Only _that_ blade," and he nodded up at the pillar, "can kill them and free me."

"One sword can do all that?"

"You have defeated many whose claims of power were hollow, my lady. You tore them from their thrones. And always you have used the right tools to defeat your foes. For this day, that sword," he smiled, "is the right tool."

It was almost like being back in the real world with all the hoops she had to jump through. "Power over this plane my ass," she mumbled to herself before she slunk to the back of the cave, stood up, and jumped three times to warm herself up. Then, with a shake of her limbs to rid herself of her nerves, she sprinted across the ledge and leapt at the column. She caught the edge but slipped, sliding a whole foot down before her fingers found a groove to grab.

With a grunt, she held herself over the cavern, legs swinging. Then, she found some niches for her feet and climbed to the top. The special sword was stuck fast into the vertebrae of a long-dead creature. There was no guard or pommel, just a grip and a long, curving blade. It reminded her of a katana. The dull edge was jagged with sharp points, the blade itself sharp as a razor, and the whole weapon was as black as the night sky. Inside that blackness, a thousand starts glittered brightly, galaxies swirling in the distance. It captivated her, drew her toward it. It was beautiful, but terrifying.

Jayda gripped the handle and tugged, ripping it from the bones, which promptly collapsed as though the sword was all that was holding the skeleton together. The stars within the blade flared and brightened as she held it in front of her, and a strange power filled her. She felt stronger, faster, more powerful. She felt confident. When she looked down at the demonspawn below, they looked like black ants beneath her, prime for squashing.

Jayda jumped down, landing on one of the spawns. She crushed his face into the dirt with her boots and immediately brought the night-sword up to hack at the nearest foe. She had only used a katana once in her life, and she had been mediocre at utilizing the potential of such a unique weapon, but this sword felt light and graceful in her hand. She was dancing amid her enemies, carving them up as though their armor wasn't even there. Black blood spattered the walls and ground, blended in with her Shadow Armor, and pooled under her feet as one after the other fell.

One of the little monsters caught her with a rusty scythe behind her knee and she cried out, sinking to the ground for only a second. She caught her balance and swung back, cutting him down. As his life left him, she felt his essence flowing up through the sword and through her body. The slice on her leg began to heal. With every drop of blood on this strange night-blade, her body regenerated.

She grinned, laughed, and cried out for more. At some point, she cut a goat's head horn off of one of the creature's necks. She jerked it up in her free hand and blew hard as she continued to fight. The chamber began to shake and tremble and the sound of stone grating against stone added to the noise of combat. And then it stopped and she tossed the horn aside, focusing on the battle.

As each monster fell, something inside of her was drawn upon. Half of the mob lay dead by the time she realized just what it was. The sword was bonding with the Slayer, bonding with her Bhaal essence. The moment of panic passed quickly as the bloodlust was already upon her. Her vision was blurring, her drive to defeat her enemies was overwhelming, and soon she was covered in blood so slick and dark that it looked like oil. She panted and surveyed the battleground, her victory. She held the blade in front of her, watched how the stars sparkled.

"Well done, my lady!" Azran exclaimed above her. "A passage has opened up behind me! The horn revealed it!"

She looked up, having completely forgotten he was there. "Give me a minute," she mumbled, wondering how she would get back up there. As she went to put the night-sword on her belt, she realized two things. The first was that there was no space for the blade on her belt. It was not her sword. The second was that she did not want to let it go. She frowned and stared at this weapon in her fist but her fingers would not unfurl no matter how much she willed them to.

Her blood was rushing and some deep place inside of her was intertwining with the energy from the sword. She tried to drop the blade but her hand would not release it. The very idea drove her mad. She grunted, heart still thumping wildly in spite of the bodies piled around her. A chain dropped over the ledge and she wrapped it around her foot then held tight as Azran hoisted her up. Her jaw was clenching as she climbed over the edge onto the platform, fist still tight around the grip.

"My lady?" he said, and she twitched. The noise sounded distorted, far away, garbled and deep and almost like the demonspeech she had heard earlier. "Your eyes," he whispered. "They are golden."

"Azran," she growled in warning. The sword trembled in her hand, or was it her body trembling that made it shake? She was slipping. The Slayer had tasted blood and wanted more, would not calm down. The sword was calling to the Slayer, but she couldn't let it go. She didn't want to let it go. "Get back."

"Give me the sword, my lady," he said calmly and she cut her eyes to him and glared, body shaking as she fought for control. "You have killed all of the enemies. It is time to let go."

"Azran," she rasped as her vision went white.

The next thing she remembered was kneeling over the genie's mortal body as it lay cold on the ground. The sword had dissolved into her skin the moment she had killed him with it. There was a Tear of Bhaal in his hand and he had managed to hold it out to her right before he died. This time she accepted the pain that came with claiming it gladly as punishment.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He had told her that he would honor her as it pleased her when she freed him. She had freed him with death, and he had honored her by dying. Murder. That was the tribute paid to Bhaal, and to his children. "Bhaal!" she shrieked. "This is you! This is _you_! This is your doing! I do not want this!" She took a ragged breath. "I didn't want this!"

With the third Tear in her back, Jayda quickly left the chamber. It stunk of death, of her victims. The trials of Bhaal had not been tests for her to pass or fail. She had never passed the tests like she had first thought. Killing Sarevok or not, using the Slayer or not, sacrificing Desharik or sparing him, freeing Azran or killing him—they didn't matter. Only her choices mattered. These trials were not to challenge her, to kill her or crown her victor—no, they were something else. They were there to reveal her strengths and weaknesses, to show Bhaal and herself the kind of person she truly was.

Winning these Tears meant nothing. They were not a prize. They were the heavy stones of choice, the burdens of consequence, and, most of all, reminders of who she was and the things she had done. _A tear fell for every murdered soul, every torment paid by our father, and he kept each one, _Sarevok had said. She could feel her father's pride in those stones, his hatred and cruelty, his power, his wisdom. She added her sorrow. When she gave these Tears back to him, they would be weighted with her regret.

Knowing the truth of the trials sapped her will to go on. She was afraid to keep going but also afraid not to go. She was afraid of the death behind her and the death in front of her. Mostly, she was afraid to learn any more truths. She didn't want to know anything else, about her or about Bhaal or even this place she supposedly had power over.

So she slowly trudged down the dark chamber, footsteps heavy and body limp. The torches on the walls were spanned further and further apart, and sometimes she crossed through utter darkness before reaching another pool of light. She swayed a little, stumbled on stones in the way of her feet, and sometimes fell against the walls and wondered what would happen if she just stayed there forever. But she always got back up and kept going, deeper and deeper into the darkness until the torches went out entirely.

/

Jayda's eyes flew open to a single dim candle burning and Gorion's face over hers. He was shaking her, his normally placid expression warped into one of alarm.

"Wake up!" he hissed. "Hurry!"

In all of her years, she had never seen him so worried. She had come to never question his orders, and even now that he was so urgent, she did not stop for answers and immediately hopped out of bed and began pulling on her boots.

"Pack your things," he told her. "Pack _lightly_. We've a ways to go and not enough time for care."

"What's happening?" she asked, and then froze just as she was buckling her last boot. She had been sleeping in her own bed in Candlekeep. Gorion was standing in front of her. All was normal, but something… something didn't feel right.

"There's no time to explain. We must go now. Get your things. Hurry!" He peered out of the window as she quickly stuffed some clothes into her pack. The tiny candle lit their path downstairs where she went to pack some provisions but he grabbed her arm and pulled her out the door. "No time!"

Jayda frowned as she slung her pack over her shoulder. She had been here before, in this moment, but it felt long in her past. Why did she feel afraid? Why did this feel wrong? She looked around as they passed the silent buildings, hurried along by Gorion's whispered fussing. She almost smiled. She missed his intellectual murmurs, the way he always rambled on under his breath whenever he didn't agree with something or was trying to figure out the truth about—she suddenly stopped walking. She missed him?

"Oh, gods, no," she whispered, paling. Gorion was dead. She was no longer welcome in Candlekeep. And this was the night she had first met Sarevok, the night when Gorion had been stolen from her. "Please, no…"

He turned around and motioned for her to follow, but she only shook her head, backing up. He stomped over and grabbed her arm, tugging her toward the gate.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Don't do this! Don't go out there!"

"Come, child, we have no time for games!" he told her. "You must trust me!"

He was strong for an old man, and no matter how hard she struggled, how she dug her heels into the gravel and shoveled up the mud with her boots, she could not wriggle out of his hold. She begged and pleaded but he only thought her frightened of leaving her home. When she opened her mouth to tell him that Sarevok was out there, no words came out. She winced. What had happened to her voice? When she tried to warn him again, nothing came out. The knot of fear in her stomach tightened. She could not even warn him of the dangers coming.

And then they were beyond the gate. They didn't walk long in the darkness before they were surrounded by the same terrifying fiends of her nightmares—ogres, bugbears, beastmasters and their pets. As she looked at them now, she realized that they were all creatures she had killed a hundred times over in her adventures that followed this night. The woman she was now could easily stop this from happening. She reached for her swords but they weren't there. Not her armor or her weapons or anything she had been carrying.

"You are perceptive for an old man," Sarevok mused under his frightful helmet, "but it does you no good. You know why I'm here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt."

"Sarevok," she called out in a shaky voice. He and Gorion turned to look at her in surprise. "Don't!"

But it was too late. Gorion took the moment to attack. He always attacked first—in reality, her dreams, her memories. She screamed in protest, and then chaos broke out around her. She tried to find a weapon, but her feet wanted to shuffle in shock and confusion, not respond calmly and quickly like she was used to. The knot of fear tightened even more and she was near panicking. That's when Sarevok stomped over to her and drew the hooked blade.

"Brother, don't!" she cried, feeling her words stick in her throat. She backed up, too afraid to dodge and attack, to steeped in terror to react like the veteran fighter that she was. "Sarevok!" she shrieked as he swung. She spun away just in time, and screamed in agony as her scar was cut open and blood poured out.

When she hit the ground, she saw she was in a cave. The stone beneath her fingers was not the soft mud it was supposed to be. She looked up and still the battle raged on. Sarevok was stalking her and so she backed up and willed herself to become one with the shadows. Her back pressed up against the curving wall of the tunnel, but her eyes only saw the battle being played out before her.

She winced, tried to kick away from this scene as her brother approached Gorion. She knew what was coming, knew what was next. She didn't want to see it, not again, not ever! But she couldn't escape. _Close your eyes!_ But they didn't close, or couldn't, or maybe they did but it didn't matter—she could still see everything no matter where she looked.

Gorion cried out as Sarevok's sword stabbed him in the back and through his chest, lifting him off the ground. Jayda screamed with him, trembling in alarm and horror. No matter how many times she had dreamed of this moment, no matter long it had been since then, it frightened her as though she were still just a child ignorant of the real world and the truth of her heritage.

Jayda somehow picked herself up and began sprinting down the tunnel. She ran straight into the dungeon where Irenicus had spent months torturing her and her friends. She saw him cutting on Khalid while Imoen was chained nearby, helpless, sobbing, horrified. She nearly hurled on the stone floor, tried to run again, but couldn't escape. What Irenicus did to poor Dynaheir made her wail in agony. Her skin was covered in fleshbumps, hair standing straight up. Her stomach hurt with the angry worms of fear wriggling within, and her muscles were so tense that she thought she might petrify.

When she ran again, she found herself running straight into her old cage. The bars slammed shut behind her and she threw herself against them, screaming and banging and struggling to get the door opened again. Irenicus appeared out of the shadows and drew closer. She backed up, shaking her head, protesting wordlessly. Her voice had abandoned her. He brought his knife up and showed her the tool, warned her about what he had in store for her that day.

She sobbed and sank to the floor. It felt like iron, not the stone of the tunnel. Was this vision real? _No!_ She tried to remind herself that it was just an illusion. She told herself to run, that the bars weren't real! If she believed they were real, they could hold her. _It's not real, run!_ She jumped up as Irenicus opened the cage door and fled, overwhelmed mostly with panic than actual faith. But somehow she made it through the cage and was racing down the corridor.

By the time she saw the light, she had already witnessed a dozen horrifying things from her past. She stopped when she reached the spill of light, bending over with her hands to her knees to take deep breaths and hopefully not vomit. Her heart was racing, nerves alight and sensitive to any touch. She was ready to run. She looked up at the light and saw that there was a hole in the roof that went up so far that it had reached the surface. There was a blue sky the size of a pinprick up there.

"Child of Bhaal," a nasally voice said and she jumped, looking this way and that. "Already you have come through such terror. No stopping now. You must go on. You know this."

Jayda looked at her hands, at how they were shaking. The very idea of continuing made her want to cry. She didn't want to see these things anymore! She didn't want to relive all of the pain, all of the horrible memories. When she had actually been in the moments, it was different! There were times when she had been so caught up in the action that she hadn't had time to be afraid. Then there were times when she wasn't sure how she had overcome her fear to get through the situation. Now, witnessing it again, reliving all of those moments, she knew what was coming. She knew to be afraid. She _knew_ that she would be haunted by those moments forever.

"I don't want to see anymore," she whispered dumbly.

"I'm afraid you must, Child," the voice said and then the creature stepped into the light. It was a small thing with thin limbs that resembled wispy tree branches. A large, hooked nose covered most of his face and bushy gray eyebrows and a long, matching beard covered the rest of it. Drooping, mossy wings grew from his back, twitching and jerking sporadically. He waddled as he walked, robe dragging on the ground to hide his feet. "You must see one last truth before you can claim your prize. I pity you. I do. Having come so far as you are is remarkable indeed, only to be sent to worse."

"Worse?" she gasped, unable to fathom what could possibly be waiting for her ahead. How could anything be worse than seeing her friends tortured and killed, than seeing Gorion murdered? She dropped to her knees, staring hopelessly at the tiny imp. "I don't know if I can do this…"

"And who could expect you to, Child of Bhaal? You have been through so much already. And still, you must continue. But you know… like so many with power, items of magic can do much that the ordinary man cannot." The imp extended his arm, and his fingers were long, thin twigs filed into points. She thought his fingers resembled spider legs. They clutched a beautiful cloak made of shimmering purple and blue fabric so thin and delicate, she could almost see through it. "I have a gift for you, Child of Bhaal. This cloak, stitched together from the flayed skins of lovely nymphs, commands extraordinary magic."

Jayda flinched away from the cloak, repulsed by it. The skins of nymphs? She could never wear such an evil thing!

"If you wear it, you will be soothed by its powerful magic… Panic will never overcome you again. It will not stop you from seeing, Child of Bhaal, for the truth cannot be smothered. But, if you wear this cloak, you will never be overcome by fear. You will accept all calmly, logically… and unafraid." The tree-imp's beard lifted and she assumed he was smiling. "I bow to the power of your divine soul, Child. Take this gift I offer. Ease your burden… You have been through enough already."

Jayda stared at the cloak, transfixed. It was truly a terrible thing, but rejecting it would not bring the nymphs back to life. Their sacrifice was a horrible, regrettable thing, but should she shun such a gift and make their sacrifice a waste? Jayda looked up at the imp, at his wrinkled, hairy face, and then back at the cloak. She had seen too much, too many horrible things. She didn't know if she had it in her to continue. Even now, tears were still silently seeping out of her and her heart was still thumping in fear. She couldn't bear to continue, not if there were truths to discover worse than what she had already experienced.

"What could be worse?" she numbly asked aloud. "I have seen Gorion murdered, my friends tortured and killed, Irenicus rip my soul out of me, the Slayer attack the ones I love, and my self-control fray to tiny threads and then snap. What could be worse? Is there such a thing? Will I discover that my friends have all abandoned me? Or maybe that Gaelan never truly loved me."

"Take the cloak, Child of Bhaal," the imp urged, offering it again. "You have used up your courage and bravery. You deserve some peace."

Courage? Bravery? Did that really have anything to do with it? Was she born with stores of courage and had merely tapped out all she had? Would a day of rest replenish her? No! Courage was not a force of will, not energy or stamina or magic! It was not even a thing, merely the name given to an action—given to describe a person who continued to act in the face of fear, in spite of the fear. But it did not kill the fear, it did not take it away.

Jayda stood up and backed away from the cloak as though it were a snake rearing to bite her. It was an evil, unnatural thing. She didn't want to proceed, but she had to, and she would have to face the truth and her fear as she had always done.

"I want nothing to do with you or your cloak," she growled. "I want nothing to do with this place!" And then she was running again, and she did not look back.

/

There was a thick fog on the ground as the tunnel opened up to an expansive chamber. Jayda inched inside, eyes alert. She could barely see the natural columns in this thick fog and would doubtless see an enemy if he tried to sneak up on her. There were no sounds but the ones her own feet made as they slid along the ground, kicking or crunching pebbles in her path. As she crept deeper in the cavern, she came to a scroll stand with an old tome sitting atop it, opened midway to a wrinkled, yellowed page.

"The History of the Dead Three," she read the title aloud, running her fingers over the faded ink. "In ages past, there was but one god of strife, death, and the dead, and he was known as Jergal, Lord of the End of Everything."

The book went on to describe how Jergal had grown weary of his office and sought release from his duties. During this time, three powerful mortals had appeared who traveled the Realms seeking great power so that they could eventually challenge Jergal for his god-dom.

The fog surrounding her began to change, and she saw three dark figures emerge. The book's story manifested before her, and she watched these three mortals face dangers and challenges and hardships, one after the other, and even when she thought they might be defeated… they emerged unscathed. The words on the pages under her fingers echoed in her mind as she watched the lives of these three mortals. She could not see their faces, just the way they fought—with unbelievable strength, power, speed, and skill. And when they had defeated one of the Seven Lost Gods, they each obtained a portion of the being's divine essence. Then, the fog shifted and changed as these mortals wandered into the Grey Waste to confront the Lord of the End of Everything.

Jayda left the book and followed behind the mortals, went deeper into the fog and crossed into the Castle of Bone. She watched as these mortals fought off armies of dead—skeletons and zombies and spirits and liches! She stepped over the fallen and even felt her fingers itch to grasp the weapons at her sides. The biggest of the mortals wore plate armor and wielded a giant greatsword, severing his foes in half with a single stroke. The smallest of the mortals used dark magic, turning the dead against themselves, and obliterating the rest with powerful spells. The last of the mortals was as quick as a rogue, fighting just like she did, precise and deadly. As they wandered deeper into the castle, the hordes began attacking her as well, and she fought them off, unafraid, and felt herself being filled with satisfaction at every victory.

When finally they came to the throne room, Jergal stood at the top of the steep steps that led to his great bone chair. He was impossibly tall and thin and cloaked in a faded black robe. His long face was gaunt and aged, and his small eyes were empty black beads.

"Bane the Tyrant, Myrkul the Necromancer, and Bhaal the Assassin," he began, and Jayda felt her heart jump into her throat. "The Throne is yours. Take it if you wish. I have grown weary of this empty power. Who among you shall rule?"

Jayda flinched as the mortals began fighting amongst themselves, and her eyes tracked the fighter who fought like she, for he was her father and she had never known he had once been mortal as she. Part of her longed to see his face and another part was terrified at the thought. She did not want to see his face—to know her father was more than the black figure who lurked in her shadow. She did not want to know that he had once been a man, a person of morality, a being burdened with the same hardships she now faced. She did not want to relate to him at all, for then she would no longer be able to deny that she was like him. _I am not like you!_ Those were the words she repeated over and over as though if she just said it enough then that would make it true.

The three fought on for ages, it seemed, until Jergal finally waved his arms and bid them rest. "After all you have sacrificed, would you come away with nothing? Divide the portfolios and allow Lady Luck to decide your claims." He broke off his skeletal fingers and threw them down the steps. They clacked as they scattered on the stone floor.

Jayda inched closer, hiding behind the tall, ivory columns that were made of giant bones. What great creatures had been felled to contribute to this great palace's construction? She dared not imagine it. As she watched the mortals play a game of knucklebones for their prize, she thought about shouting out to Jergal not to do this, but knew it would be futile. She was watching something that had already been done, probably thousands of years ago. She was watching something few knew, fewer had witnessed, and deep in heart understood that this was a story she did not want to see, did not want to know.

_Run_, she told herself, but she could not break away. She knew how the story ended, didn't she? Bhaal became the Lord of Murder and spawned her and her siblings in all of his depravity before he was murdered himself. And yet, she had not known that he had once been mortal. She had not known he'd won his power over a game of chance. _Run_.

Finally, the biggest man jumped up and shouted in glee. He had won. She had not expected that. As he stomped before Jergal, his face was unveiled. He was a tall, burly giant of a man, with a clean-shaven head and a blocky jaw hard like rock.

"As winner," Bane bellowed in a deep voice that rumbled throughout the great chamber, "I choose to rule for all eternity as the ultimate tyrant!" He whirled to face his two companions. "I will induce hatred and strike at my whim, and all will bow down before me while in my kingdom!"

"So be it," Jergal said, and bowed his head. Then the small mage leapt up and went to stand before the Lord of the End of Everything. Black whiskers sprouted from his nose and chin, and rings and chains dangled from his brows and ears. He had been placed second, Jayda realized, and grew even more confused. Had her father really been given the leftovers of Jergal's power?

"But I choose the dead," Myrkul declared, "and by doing so I have truly won. All you are lord over, Bane, will eventually be mine, as all things must die—even gods."

"So be it," Jergal said solemnly.

Bane scowled at him as the necromancer stood triumphantly next to him and sneered. Jayda's heart began to beat wildly and she bravely stepped from around the column. _Run._ Her father slowly rose to his feet, his back to her, and he lifted his head. He was tall and thin but muscular and honed. _Run._

"It will be by _my_ hand that all that you rule, Lord Bane, will eventually pass to Lord Myrkul. Both of you must pay honor to me and obey my wishes," he said, his voice commanding, "for I can destroy your kingdom, Bane, by murdering your subjects, and I can starve your kingdom, Myrkul, by staying my hand."

Bhaal turned and looked directly at her. Jayda's heart beat so hard and so fast, it threatened to rupture in her chest, and, when she went to gasp, she found could not breathe. She fell to her knees in defeat as she looked upon her father's face. It was a masculine version of hers. He had red hair, too, though a bit darker, and his skin was just a shade paler than hers. He had her eyes, their shape and color, and her mouth, and a larger version of her nose. His jaw was squarer and face broader, but the chin and cheekbones were the same.

"I choose death," he told her, and smiled.

For a moment, Jayda saw herself sink to the ground, her face to the stones, and sob. She saw herself choke on her own tears, crumble beneath this revelation. This was the one truth she could not stomach—the truth was that she just like him. And she withered there on the floor, gave up under such a weight, and was content to die. _You should have run, you fool, _she told herself. And then she took a deep breath.

The alternate path—the path of defeat—was one possibility, and she had overcome it. She stood there squared off with her father, Bane and Myrkul in the background scowling in their defeat, Jergal smiling in relief. Bhaal stretched out his hand and she slowly walked over to him.

_I am not like you, _she thought. A habit, a burst of denial, a deep-seeded need—she didn't know why she thought it, but it sprang to the forefront of her mind.

"Jayda," Bhaal said as the Castle of Bone and all within it faded into the fog once more. "Of all of my children, you are the most like me."

"This is a trick," she whispered. "You were a god. You had many forms."

"I did, but this was the form in which I earned my throne—my original, mortal form. This is the form I took your mother in, and Sarevok's mother… and Imoen's. None of them look a thing like me. None of my children had a single one of my features, none save you, and you got them all. The only thing your mother gave you was those ears. The rest of you is mine."

As he stepped closer, the black armor he wore could almost be considered Shadow Armor. It was made of leather freshly oiled and there were daggers belted on his sides. Her gut churned as he drew closer, heart fluttering anxiously.

"Even your skill set was a gift from me. I did not intend for this—for you to mirror me in all my ways—but here you are. Such a beautiful babe, I recall, and one of the only ones I saw with my own two eyes before I died. Even Kayl thought so. 'Delicious enough to eat,' he said." Bhaal chuckled. "But not you, I couldn't allow that. I sensed something in you even when you were so small. I wanted to see what you could do for me."

"And I disappointed you," she said, feeling an ounce of triumphant amid her nausea.

"On the contrary, Jayda, you have made me so proud. Gorion did me such a service by hiding you away. You see, it was the running from me that made your actions so magnificent. You are strong, strong on your own—not because of my power. You wanted to control your destiny with your own hand, and have made yourself more powerful because of it. And when you couple your power with mine, you will be quite the godchild and how they will tremble in your shadow."

Jayda shook her head, needing to deny this, somehow to prove it wasn't true. "But I'm not—"

"Oh, but you are. You see, murder was just a facet of my profile. I am the god of death, but it was the killing that I liked best. And you with your notions and morals, constantly striving to do the right thing, to deny your heritage, slaughtered in droves because you believe your hand was forced. And as their souls passed from the living to the dead, it was, as Kayl liked to put it, quite delicious."

She was frantic, desperate, near panic. The kernel of confidence she had carried with her all the years she had believed Gorion's sacrifice had not been in vain was suddenly withering. "But you're dead and another rules in your place…"

"I may be dead and my office usurped, but my existence is not gone from the realms. I still exist and I can still feel through my children. You could never run from me, remember? I have always been with you." He reached out and touched her cheek. "You think there is no place for a person of your caliber in my legacy, but you are very wrong. You are my chosen, and I am very proud of you, my heir."

"Heir?" she balked. "I do not want your power or your throne or your legacy! Give it to me and I will pass it to another."

He laughed, this thumb idly stroking her cheek. She winced. He looked so much like her—no. She looked so much like him. Even her laughter was like his. She wanted to vomit, to cry, to scream and claw and struggle. She wanted to fight him, kill him.

"You will do no such thing," he said. "You are far too responsible for that." With his hand gently on her face, he pulled her to him with utter ease until their bodies were pressed together. "The way is forward, daughter. And you must decide how to proceed. Will you still deny me?"

His free hand held up the fourth Tear for her to take. She stared at it and thought of fighting him, thought of cutting his arm off and prying the stone from his frozen fingers. Then she looked up at his face and thought of running for the sake of her sanity.

"Deny you?" she repeated in disgust. "I hate you! I _hate_ you! I hate everything that you are and everything that you stand for!" she screamed. "All of this is your fault—all of it! _You_ are the reason Gorion is dead! _You_ are the reason why I had to kill my brother! You are the reason I was hunted and tortured by Irenicus, and you are the reason my soul was ripped out of me! You're the reason that I'm here—this is your fault! This is your doing! The Slayer is _your_ vile creation! My whole life has been suffering and fear and fighting and regret because of you!" She slammed her fists against his chest but could not move him. "I despise you! There is no one in all of the Realms I hate more than you! You should have killed me—you should have let Kayl have me! I should never have been born! You've hurt and killed so many people through me but I am the one who has to live with it and it's your fault! I hate you! I hate you! I _hate you_!" She sniffled as her rage expelled and the tears slipped out. "You killed Gorion," she groaned. "You kill my brother… I hate you…"

He was silent for a moment as she worked out her rage in frustrated jerks and curses and strikes. No matter how much she struggled, he held her against him with unnatural strength until she went still and quiet once more.

"I may not be the father you'd choose," he said suddenly, eyes betraying nothing. "That man may be Gorion, and you may hate me and all that I am, despise what I stand for, loathe what you've inherited. But I _am_ your father. Accept the truth or deny it, I am your father." His fingers tightened on her jaw in a hard grip even as his thumb stroked the skin beneath her eye, swiping a stray tear away. "But you, were you not mine already, are the daughter I would choose."

Jayda felt her panic and anger ebb until she was completely numb. She slowly dropped her head to rest against his chest and allowed herself to empty, her mind to clear. _Do you want to know the truth?_ She asked herself. _The truth is that you are just like him. You have his face and his skills and his essence._ Rillifane's words suddenly popped into her head. _You bear his mark, but your heart is not like his_. She was just like her father, but her heart was still her own. And as long as that was true, she could take this heritage of hers and conquer it. She was and always would be a Child of Bhaal. But instead of letting that truth rule her, she would become her own person, and she would be a Bhaalspawn like no other. She would be someone Gorion, Jaheira, Khalid, Minsc, Dynaheir, Gaelan, and all the others could be proud of—would be a person that someone other than her father could be proud of.

"You are my heir," he said as a matter-of-fact. "Do you believe me now?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, "father…"

She reached up and took the Tear from his hand. He held her through all of the pain. And when it stopped, he was gone and the fog in the cavern had lifted. She stared at another tunnel mouth, but this one was not as dark as the others. It bent upward toward the surface, and Jayda's footsteps echoed across the chamber as she walked bravely toward her final trial.

* * *

**A/N:** So obviously I changed the trials. I felt that... the trials were about the type of person the Bhaalspawn was and took that as a jumping off point, making them more personal. They are not all the same. For instance, the trial with "blackrazor" is not so much about greed as it is about self-control. I wanted to challenge her in a way that she could not easily overcome. Also, I know I sort of glossed over a chunk of The History of the Dead Three but I didn't feel like all that business with Malar was important. x3 Also... the bit with Bhaal. Suffice it to say that obviously no one yet knows what Bhaal's true intentions were when he had all his kids... uh... that is all! :D Hope you enjoy these changes!


	48. The Soul of a Bhaalspawn

**The Soul of a Bhaalspawn**

The tunnel led up to a sunny world so bright that Jayda had to cover her eyes and squint, standing perfectly still until she adjusted to the shift of light. It hurt the back of her eyes so badly that she thought they might burn out of her head. It didn't take long, however, for her to be able to steal glimpses of her surroundings. She was in a desert, vast and hilly with red and craggy mountains in the distance. The air was dry and hot, making it hard to breathe, and she was already sweating in her armor. The sun was directly overhead.

Jayda pulled her hood up and slowly began trudging through the sand, stumbling and tripping as she struggled to place each step. She persisted silently, body numb, mind frozen with one moment: her father's embrace. _You are the daughter I would choose._ Jayda felt liberated by her acceptance that she was the daughter of Bhaal. She felt lighter, freer, more in control of herself and her fate. Perhaps it was a lovely trick to distract her from the destruction she would wrought by allowing her to accept her heritage, but she had to believe that she could make a difference, and would.

Her inner turmoil over her father had not ceased, however, only changed directions. It had been better for him to remain the black shadow in her peripherals, the dark force in her shadow, the seed of evil in her heart. She could hate him that way, blame him for all of the wrong in her life. But seeing him as a man… seeing his face… The way he touched her cheek and held her close, close enough to feel his warmth and breathe his breath… The sound of his laughter, the way he called her his "daughter", not just his "heir"… It had made her feel the same way she'd felt when Sarevok had called her "sister" and meant it, without a hint of sarcasm or disgust in his voice.

It had made her feel at home, and it had made her happy.

But she didn't want to be happy with Bhaal, the Lord of Murder. Sarevok had been a victim, like she, but Bhaal _chose_ his fate. He had fought for it. _And there I was fighting with him in the fog,_ she thought shamefully, remembering how she, too, had battled skeletons and liches in the Castle of Bone. Even if it hadn't been real, she had wanted to fight, too—to help them.

And she had called him father.

_Don't be foolish, girl,_ a voice inside of her said. _Gorion's dead, gone, and you're all alone. Sarevok is your brother, Bhaal your father—the family you are missing._

"They were murderers," she said aloud, "and both dead. They're no family to me now."

She tried to envision herself sitting down to eat dinner with them, with Bhaal at the head of the table and her and Sarevok on his right and left, but she couldn't do it. There was no way that they could exist together except on the battlefield in her mind. Sometimes they fought side-by-side and back-to-back, sometimes they fought each other, but always and only ever fighting.

_Gorion was never your father,_ the voice reminded her. _He treated you with kindness but never let you forget you were only his ward, no more._

"Gorion's ward, Bhaal's heir, and daughter to no one," she argued.

_He called you daughter. He said he chose you._

"Shut up!" she yelled suddenly. The Slayer recoiled inside of her and there was a moment's peace. "My friends are my family, now."

_Your friends are gone…_

"They're all gone," she whispered and stopped walking. Her arms slumped at her sides, she tilted her head back. The sun was still directly over her head. Did it ever move? Was there no such thing as night in this realm? "All gone…" she muttered again.

_All gone._

"Gorion… Sarevok… Bhaal… Gaelan, Jaheira, and Minsc… Imoen, Haer'dalis… Aerie and Anomen… and Gaelan… Gaelan…" She stumbled forward, face still tilted toward the sun. "I have no family."

_You're all alone._

"I'm alone…"

_But not here… Here, you are where you belong. With your family._

"Here is where I… where I belong…" Her vision began to grow blurry.

_Isn't that what you told your brother?_

"Told Sarevok… yes, I said… I belong here with him… with father." She fell over and her hands sank into soft sand. "Gaelan… Imoen… Jaheira… Gone…"

Before she could continue, she heard voices. Jayda picked her head up and looked across the sandy dunes. Had she been under the hot sun long enough to be seeing mirages? Jayda snapped out of her daze, picked herself up, and ran, kicking up sand behind her. Nomadic huts came into view—stick frames with light-colored drapery made a camp of large tents. There were people dressed in desert rags gathering together and they all stared at her when she approached.

"The Child of Bhaal comes to us," one of them exclaimed as she walked into their camp. Many put their arms into the air and gave a shout of praise.

"Finally you come to us, great one!"

"Hail to the Lady of Murder!" There was another exclamation of praise. "Blessed are the Tribes of Ak'al!"

"We are saved! We are saved!"

"Saved? What's happening here?" she asked, feeling on edge as the nomads began to circle her. Though many knelt in supplication and the rest wore smiles bright with hope, she was suspicious of their worship.

"Nothing that one so great as you cannot solve," a man said, bowing deeply.

"That we could serve you in your time of need honors us, my lady," a woman told her.

"Oh, the tests you make are clever, Lady of Murder," another said, smiling. Jayda was frowning. "We will do all that we can, of course!"

"Your power here is strong!" someone else shouted.

"My time of need? What do you mean by that?" Jayda asked. Another man stepped up to her and to Jayda he seemed to have more authority than the rest. "What did you mean when you said my tests were clever?"

"How do you find your soul, Child of Bhaal?" he asked with a grin. "Do you find it on a stroll? No, you must know yourself, the depths of your passion and the heights of your depravity."

"Are you saying _I_ made these tests?" she asked him.

"Who else, Lady of Murder?" someone asked.

"You must come to know what you are capable of, and that shall open the way to your soul."

"It is yourself, your essence, that you seek… is it not?"

Jayda stared at them all, mouth dry and head swimming from the heat. Her thick cowl was designed to keep her warm, not block the sun. It felt like her brain was boiling. She tried to take in everything they were saying to her, but she couldn't focus.

The man who had approached her began barking orders in a tongue she couldn't understand, and several sets of hands caught her before she could fall over. She was carried into a tent and was so grateful for the reprieve that she didn't notice at first when they started stripping her of her armor and weapons. She tried to protest but the women only apologized repeatedly, took her clothes off, and helped her into a cool bath.

After awhile soaking in the water and drinking from the silver pitcher someone had brought her, Jayda felt herself again. A couple women climbed in the bath with her, wielding sponges and soaps and oils. When she told them she could bathe herself, they only giggled and pretended they didn't understand her. Maybe they didn't, but her scowl and hand motions and the way she shrank away from them should have been an indicator. Still, they came on and delicately took her limbs, gently scrubbing the dirt and sweat and blood from her skin. She tried to relax, but it was impossible; she felt strange with so many foreign hands on her bare skin. So when two more women began massaging her back, Jayda squirmed uncomfortably, but the way they kneaded the tension from her muscles eventually had her melting in relief.

The man from earlier soon entered the tent, and Jayda immediately went to cover herself. He was no taller than she and had dark skin with black hair and a black moustache. His clothes were as unadorned as the rest of the tribe's, but he wore more layers and more color, which made him stand out amongst the others. He smiled and bowed.

"My Lady of Murder," he began. "I am Sahalen, and I am most happy to serve you."

"What is all of this?" she asked.

"This is your respect," he replied. "This is your worship. If we cannot pamper the Child of Bhaal in some way, what could we do for one so great? Do not think we stop at this, my lady. You armor is being cleaned, clothes washed, and weapons sharpened."

"Why? I am not Bhaal, just another of his children looking for a way out of this place. I have no power here. I'm not worthy of your worship."

"Oh but you are," Sahalen replied. "I have heard of your prowess, Child… and it most impressive, for a mortal life."

"Mortal life?" she echoed, and then looked around at them all. Sure, they looked human, but that meant nothing in this place. She remembered Azran, a genie forced into a mortal body. "You're demons."

"One of the demon tribes of Ak'al, yes," he replied, and then led his arm in a sweeping motion as he knelt down in front of the pool that was her bath. "These are the sands of Ak'alhanali, desert of the Nine Hells. We have been waiting for you for quite some time, my lady."

Everyone kept saying that. She was starting to believe it. Just then someone handed her a soft towel. She climbed out and began drying off, her back to Sahalen, and she flinched when his fingers suddenly touched the stones on her back. She spun around and grabbed his wrist threateningly, letting her glare speak for her. He grinned, bowing repeatedly as he backed away.

"My apologies, Child of Bhaal," he said, but he didn't sound sorry at all. "I will wait outside."

Jayda suddenly wanted to leave, to be far away from these people and this place. The women gathered around her, gently combing out her clean hair, brushing it until it was dry while others painted elegant, golden patterns on her hands and feet. They tied delicate, silver chains with bells and beads into her hair and wove two small braids down one side. They used charcoal to line her eyes. The silks they gave her to wear were so soft that she felt naked even when wearing them, though she had to admit that they were far cooler than her own clothes. They put golden bracelets on her wrists and cuffs on her upper arms. They tied a golden sash around her waist, letting the extra silk hang to the ground. They completed it with a large necklace, golden discs bound together with a bright red jewel embedded in the central disc.

Jayda caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror and barely recognized herself. She looked like their queen. Even as a child in Candlekeep, she had never dolled herself up or dreamt of silks so fine. Once she left Candlekeep, she was always in armor, standard cotton, and boots. She tied her hair back with leather wraps and silver coils to keep it out of her face when she fought. She knew in her Shadow Armor, she looked the part of a fierce rogue. But this woman staring back at her—in her silks and jewelry—looked regal and womanly, but somehow powerful and just as deadly.

Jayda was led back into the camp and up to a large chair, padded with fluffy pillows and draped with crimson sheets of silk. The whole tribe followed her to her throne and knelt when she sat down. She went willingly, positive that if she tried to protest that they would only pretend they didn't understand her again. She kept telling herself that if she could just find out what they wanted, she could be done with this charade. But somewhere deep inside, she was… happy to be pampered. It made her feel important, appreciated, respected—as though she was finally being commended for all of the fiery hoops she had jumped through at the whims of others.

"Mighty Child of Bhaal!" Sahalen exclaimed and the tribe threw their hands up and shouted praise. "Her prowess unlike any other! Creatures of great power thrown aside as if they were nothing! Beings any other mortal would quake before, she has fought against valiantly!" The wailing was intimidating and she wanted to shrink into the chair almost as much as she felt her chest swelling with pride. Sahalen threw himself at her feet. "You are a wonder of destruction, Lady of Murder!"

"Save us!" a woman in the crowd cried out.

"Save us, Child of Bhaal!" another exclaimed.

"Only you can help us!"

Jayda bit her lower lip as she stared at them all, howling and waving their arms. She felt stupid doing it, but she reached out to try to quiet them. When it worked and silence fell over the tribe, she felt strangely powerful.

"What…" she began awkwardly. "What is it I can do for you?"

"There is a terrible creature that lies in the caverns of the mountains in the north," Sahalen explained. He pointed to the red cliffs behind her. "Crush it beneath your heel, oh Lady of Murder, and claim another victory!"

The people wailed in approval. Jayda resisted smiling. Did they really depend on her so much? Was this something only she could do? She had been through countless situations, killed all manner of creatures just as Sahalen had said. She hadn't really thought about it before, but she had grown from those experiences. Perhaps there really was a situation that only she could take care of.

"What kind of creature?" Jayda asked, preparing for the worst. She swelled with pride, knowing that, whatever it was, she would defeat it.

"A fearsome thing of great evil," Sahalen told her. "A ferocious beast only you can slay! Praise to the Child of Bhaal!"

"Praise!" came the chorus of the crowd.

"Yes, but what kind of beast is it?" she asked.

"The worst kind, my lady," he answered her. Jayda frowned. Maybe they simply didn't know what manner of creature it was because they had never learned what it was, or perhaps it was because they had never truly set eyes on it. But if that were true, how could they have been beset by it?

"Why does it deserve death?" she wanted to know. "What has it been doing to afflict you?"

"The terrible creature," someone wailed, "dark and menacing, vile and wretched! It deserves no better than death!"

"Death at our lady's hand!" another exclaimed.

"For what it does and will do, is and will be," Sahalen said, "for all of these things, and all things."

"Yes, but _why_?" she asked through clenched teeth, irritated at his cryptic speech.

"Because… because it exists, Child of Bhaal," he replied, confusion plain on his face. "It stands in your way. It guards the doors that you must pass through. It holds the Tear that you must claim. It is a wicked creature, conniving and strong. We tremble in his shadow…"

"Save us!" the chorus cried. "Great Child of Bhaal, protect us!"

Jayda shot up out of the chair and ripped the necklace off, tossing it into the sand. "I do not kill things just because they are in my way!" she bellowed. "You would have me murder for this reason? Do it yourself! Playing to my pride…" She was ashamed. "Bring me my armor. Now!"

The crowd dispersed, scurrying this way and that. The handmaidens who had bathed her ushered her to another tent, heads bowed and eyes averted. Within, she tore off the silks and donned her clothes and armor once more. It was freshly oiled, Sarevok's gauntlets shined, and her blades glistened sharply. As she put her gloves on, she saw the delicate designs painted on her hands and tried to wipe them off, embarrassed at herself for thinking for even a moment that she was someone's savior—no, for allowing herself to play the part.

When she was dressed, a woman handed her a head wrap to block the sun. She donned it and went outside. Sahalen was staring at her sadly.

"You will not do this thing for us?" he asked quietly, and the tribe stood behind him silently, heads bowed. If they wanted to play to her guilt, it was a good effort. If she hadn't been so infuriated at being toyed with, it might have worked.

"You say you fear it, but you do not know what it is!" she hissed. "You say it is terrible, but it has not even harmed you! I won't kill it because it is in my way! That is not how I work!"

"You do not?" he asked coldly, surprising her. Something in his voice made her feel like he knew more than he should, knew something she was forgetting. "Then, you consider carefully the place that your terrible power will focus upon? You consider the reason behind every blow? You weigh the thoughts and actions of every victim under your blade? There was never a moment when you took a life because it was simply deserving? You have never taken a life because you could not control yourself?"

Jayda grit her teeth, jaw clenched so tight that it hurt. Now was she being too full of herself to make a claim like she had? Of course everything Sahalen had asked her was true in the reverse. She had killed many she hadn't meant to in her failing self-control. Even before she had lost her soul, she had murdered a cleric of Cyric simply for uttering that foul usurper's name! Did she consider the actions behind every blow? No. She fought what came at her. How many times had she given others the choice to step aside or become her enemy because she had needed to get past them?

"So be it," Sahalen suddenly announced. "Humility serves well those who wield it well."

Jayda said nothing, only stormed out of the camp and headed for the cliffs. So she was humble, was she? Then why did she feel like such a hypocrite? With a guilty conscience, she crossed the dunes and climbed the red, craggy cliffs. She noticed the sun, too, slowly begin to set the moment she left the camp. It had been the same in the mountains after she had killed Sarevok—only after she had found her direction did the long road actually end. Was it true what they said? Had she really created these tests deep in her subconscious? Bhaal had told her it was time for her trials. He did not say that he had created them, or even that he was the one testing her. The idea unsettled her.

As Jayda reached the top of the cliff, she found herself standing before a great cavern mouth. A deep growl came within, and bursts of fowl air rushed out periodically. Discarded the head wrap, drew her sword and dagger, and inched into the darkness, preparing for a fight. As she came through the black, torches on the walls suddenly brightened the space. Curled up in front of her was a hulking mass of scales. A brown dragon nested in these cliffs. As she stood there gawking, his eyes suddenly flew open. His head lifted, reared back like he might strike, and they stared at one another for a long stretch of time. She stood there, weapons raised and arms ready to swing, as she waited to dodge the impending assault.

"Will you not attack?" it finally asked her, voice somber and soft.

"You… were expecting me to?" she stammered in shock.

"I am a dragon, fearsome and cruel," he said, "so they say of me and all believe. You are the great and powerful Child of Bhaal. Will you not slay me and take the Tear I keep?"

Jayda narrowed her gaze on him. "Only if you attack me first."

"Truly?" it asked, almost frightened. She put her swords up, though her hands remained near their hilts in case this was another trick. "You do not fear me?"

"I fear you," she corrected him, "but you're no enemy of mine until you make yourself one."

The dragon lifted his head back to roar, shaking the cliff with his ferocity. She winced as she struggled to keep her balance, praying she hadn't made a mistake by coming here so casually. Then, he lowered his head to her, causing her to flinch. She almost reached for her swords again, just in case, but resisted the urge. The dragon dropped something in front of her and began nudging it toward her with his nose. It was the Tear of Bhaal.

When she picked it up, she felt the pain rushing through her. This time, she could deal with it so much better. It did not even bring her to her knees, though she found herself bent over and gasping when it finally subsided. As she stood up straight, there was a small child staring up at her. The dragon was gone. The boy smiled.

"Kind lady," he said, and hugged her knees. "When they told me I must die for the great and powerful Child of Bhaal, I was so afraid. Every day, I feared you would come to kill me. Even in the form of a dragon, I knew I was no match for you. But you came… and freed me. Thank you!"

Jayda's heart was pounding so hard, she could barely breathe. She had been afraid… of a little boy? She had nearly killed a child? She dropped to her knees and stared at him, at his small face and round eyes and the messy mop of brown hair on his head. She swallowed her nerves and laid her hand on top of his head. He smiled one more time and then he vanished. Before her, the wall began to open, a door in disguise that reached all the way to the ceiling. She got to her feet, shook the last of her nerves out of her limbs, and walked through. It closed behind her.

The place she found herself was a large, circular platform carved from obsidian. A goat statue stood in the center, and the red sky that shadowed her and Sarevok's battle raged overhead. Before her was an abyssal door. She felt power rushing into her. She could feel everything now—the Nine Hells, every rock and creature. She felt her soul nearby. All at once, she knew the trials were over. Jayda closed her eyes. They had been little aspects of her life, situations she had been in before. Now, she knew herself better than she ever had.

"I am a Child of Bhaal," she whispered, and she knew in her heart that those doors would open her for and her alone. Irenicus was on the other side. And so was her soul. It was time to face him, only this time she was going alone. "As it should have been all along." But even though she said it, she didn't believe it. She had needed her friends then and she needed them now, regardless of how much power she had over this realm.

Jayda took a step toward the doors, suddenly apprehensive. And then something began manifesting in front of her. Blond hair, pale skin, a mage's robe, a shy expression and curious eyes.

"Aerie?" she whispered in disbelief. The Avariel smiled.

"I… I felt something pulling at me when I died," she said, "and I just knew it was you. I was on my way to Arvandor, flying alongside Aerdrie Faenya, the Winged Mother, and there was wind in my wings once more!" Her smile was so bright that she practically glowed. "But I felt you pulling at me… and I… I had to come."

"Aerie…"

"I may not be as strong as you, but you believed in my power even when I didn't. You depended on my magic—put your life and the others' in my hands. I'm no longer afraid."

"You should have gone on!" Jayda exclaimed. "You deserved your wings, Aerie!"

The Avariel reached out and took her hands, still smiling. "I came because I wanted to help you. I may never soar through the clouds again, but because of you, I can still fly. This is where I belong. With you. You gave me my wings back, Jayda."

Aerie smiled and slowly disappeared. The warmth of her bright smile did not fade, however, and Jayda felt it sinking into her. Minsc was standing in front of her now, Lilarcor slung over one shoulder and Boo perched on the other.

"Oh, such a glorious death in battle for Minsc and Boo!" he exclaimed. "We were well on our way to the great fields and halls of Rashemen, but we felt you need us, so we came!"

Jayda ran forward and hugged him tightly. He picked her up and swung her around, holding her in a bear hug for a long moment. When he set her back on her feet, he nudged her chin up and smiled.

"We will follow you wherever you go," he told her. "My sword is yours."

When Minsc disappeared, Jaheira came next. For the first time in Jayda's life, she saw utter peace and serenity on the druid's face.

"I leave the halls of the Seldarine for this place?" she asked with a laugh. "So be it, then. Khalid has waited all this time… he can wait a little longer."

"Jaheira." Her next words stuck in her throat. "I…"

"It is not finished, is it? I did not think so. Do not make me say it twice, Jayda…" She reached out and took Jayda's shoulder. "We stand together until the end."

Jayda wanted to hug her, but she was already disappearing, leaving her strength and wisdom behind to fill her up.

"Back in the Planes, I see," Haer'dalis said behind her. She whirled to face him. "Such strange places you bring me to, my raven."

"Things like this happen to me all the time," she managed to mumble, trying to smile as she remembered their talk at the elven camp. "Stick around and see for yourself."

"Truly?" He came closer and took her shoulders in his gentle grasp. "Then when you are done here, we will be off to other planes, other adventures?"

It had never occurred to her what would happen after she killed Irenicus and reclaimed her soul. Would she still be dead? Would she become ruler of the Nine Hells in Bhaal's stead? Would she simply fade away? Her friends were gone, everyone was gone. Haer'dalis made it seem like they could always be together and it was just a matter of going from one place to the next, but she knew it wasn't quite that simple.

"If you'll still fly with me, sparrow," she said despite her thoughts.

"Always, my raven."

"Always?" She grinned. "That doesn't sound like you."

He sighed. "Perhaps one day I will soar in other skies, it's true, but should you need me, you have but to call, and I will come to your aid. For now, however… my only place is at your side. And this is not the way I would have your song end, my raven. Will you accept my blades once more?" He unsheathed his two shortswords, Chaos and Entropy, and placed them in her hands. They dissolved at the touch and she felt his strength becoming part of hers. Then, Haer'dalis leaned in and kissed her cheek. "See you on the other side, my raven."

And then he was gone. Anomen appeared next.

"You," she whispered, fighting tears. "I told you to stay in Amn!"

"You did, my lady," he chuckled. "But following you has made it increasingly more difficult to follow orders. That stubbornness rubs off, you know."

"Anomen, you shouldn't have come! Now look what's happened! Look at you, you're—" but she couldn't say it.

"Dead? I know. And I've followed you into the Nine Hells. Not where I'd hoped we'd be… and certainly no place for a cleric of Helm." He shrugged and came closer. "But if this is where you have come, then I won't regret following you. You're my best friend, after all."

"Anomen…" she mumbled, too moved for words. He reached out and hugged her. "I'm so… so sorry… You trusted me and I led you to your death!"

"You led me to justice and noble causes, Jayda," he whispered. "You tried to spare me but I couldn't bear the thought of not facing this with you until the very end. Even when we passed into darkness, I felt you calling for me. I couldn't find you but I searched until you passed through the veil. I will give you all that I am. Reclaim your soul. That is a cause worthy of dying for."

"No," she blubbered, "no, it's not. Anomen, you're so stupid. You should have stayed in Amn."

"Maybe," he said, "but I would have regretted it for the rest of my days."

When his body disappeared and she was hugging air, her arms slumped to her sides, head bent and eyes cast downward. Imoen's face suddenly appeared. She laughed and winked, prompting Jayda to lift her head again.

"Heya," she chirped. "Why the long face, sis? It's too early for you to be lookin' so blue. Listen, I can't stay. When… when you came undone, I… I felt myself coming apart, my essence. It's hard to explain, but there was a pulling, this force calling for me. I knew it was. I had to come with you, I just knew I had to! But the closer I came to you, the more I felt myself slipping. Perhaps that's what happens when Bhaalspawn die… their souls try to return to Bhaal."

Jayda felt a spike of panic. "Are you—"

"No," she said. "At least, I don't think so… I mustered enough will to come to you, but I feel my soul being pulled elsewhere, all of it together—as one. I'm going to be okay, I think. I won't join Bhaal yet. Or ever. Because I have a gift for you." Imoen took her hands. "Somehow, in this place, I can give it to you… and somehow, in this place, you can take it. My Bhaal essence. It's coming apart, coming out of me, and if you're quick, you can siphon it out of my soul!"

Imoen's body began lifting into the air, her form fading. Jayda recalled the day so long ago when the Cowled Wizards had taken Imoen just like this, and she was reaching for her but the girl was already beyond her grasp. Now, Jayda held tightly to her sister's hands.

"Hurry!" the mage girl insisted. "Take it. I don't need it. I never needed it."

"Will I not take your soul from you as well, like Irenicus did?"

"No. Not you. He didn't understand it. But you do."

Jayda closed her eyes, looked for the taint inside Imoen, found it, called to it. It flowed out of her fading form as a cloud of darkness and burrowed inside her chest, into her core where the Slayer slept. Imoen sighed in relief, a smile on her lips.

"Thank you, sister. You've made me feel so much lighter. This has been a path of pain… but you were always made stronger for it. I would have broken long ago." Imoen smiled sadly. "This is all I can do for you… but you got this, yeah?"

And then she, too, was gone. Jayda stood there, overwhelmed with emotions. She was brimming with energy—gifts from her friends. When she held her hands out in front of her, she saw her body was glowing with a white-blue light. The addition of Imoen's essence to her already fragile shell made her feel near to bursting, as though her frame was barely holding together. If she had not been in the Nine Hells, bolstered by her friends' power and the weave of her father's taint all around her, she would have likely been shattered.

"Ye ready for this?" Gaelan asked her, and her head snapped up in the direction of his voice. He grinned his roguishly charming way. "Ye glowin', ye know that? If I touch ye, will I implode?"

"It's not funny…"

"I know." He reached out and took her cheek in his hand. "But ye look so amazin'… I can't help to tease ye a bit."

"I…" she began, and covered his hand with her own. "Gaelan… I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry…"

"I know," he said quietly. "But I'm not."

"I ki—" she choked on the word, "killed you…"

He brought her close and kissed her forehead. "I'm not sorry," he said again. "They been callin' me spirit awhile, but I fought long enough to see ye, to tell ye this… I love ye, Jayda."

"I love you, Gaelan," she whispered. He kissed her lips, enveloping her with warmth.

"Come find me when this is over, ay?" he mumbled against her mouth.

"Gaelan—"

"If ye take too long," he interrupted her, "I'll come lookin' for ye." He opened his blue eyes to look at her, foreheads pressed together, noses touching. "I will."

"Please don't go." She clutched his head to hers, held him there, kissed him again. "Please."

"I have to." He wrapped his fingers around her wrists and drew her hands away from him, gently kissing each palm. "I have to, but… ye'll be fine. Have faith."

"You were right, Gaelan, about me, about everything," she whispered. "And I am not afraid of who I am anymore."

"Good," he said with one last grin. "I never was."

When his spirit left her and she was alone before the abyssal doors, she was filled with confidence and strength. Irenicus was on the other side of that door. She could feel him. She could feel her soul. Jayda called out to the walls, to the essence of the Nine Hells. She took it into herself and felt the Slayer stir. She tapped into his strength, too. If she could push her limits anywhere, it would be in this place. She tapped into the blood, let the embers burn. There was no one innocent to hurt this time, no loved one lingering nearby to be caught in her abandoned self-control. There was only Irenicus, and if she lost herself again, her only regret would be not having the memory of destroying him.

Jayda felt herself change. Her black armor deepened until it was a void itself and jagged spikes like tears in the fabric of space grew out of her spaulders and gauntlets. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the obsidian doors in front of her. Her skin was paler, hair darker, and eyes blazing gold. The aura around her had changed, too, and was now the color of blood. She could feel the energies of death flowing out of the walls and into her, out of her and into the ground—a never-ending flow of power. She was channeling it through the realm, a conduit of Bhaal's might. If she had her soul, she could hold this power, trap it, contain it, control it at a whim. But now, soulless and in the Nine Hells, she was overflowing.

The Tears of Bhaal burned so hot, the brand on her back caused her intense pain, but she did not flinch from it. She held out her hand and silently commanded the doors to open. And they did. They led to a dark cavern, the far side opening up to the wastes of the Nine Hells, and below was a lake of fire. Irenicus was waiting. At first, he seemed confused there in the void, a twisted fetus alone in a dark womb. And then his expression changed to that of a beast having trapped his prey. She passed through the doors—or maybe she hovered, for she didn't recall moving her feet—and stared him down.

"So, we are to battle one last time," he said, fear etched on his face. "No more hiding… for either of us."

"I would never hide from you, Irenicus," she said, and even her voice was changed, electric with power. "I have been looking for you all this time. Is that fear in your eyes now that I have found your hiding place?"

He glared at her, nose wrinkling in a sneer. "I will enjoy destroying you," he spat. "And to die in this place is to cease to exist! Are you ready for such an end, Jayda?"

"There is only one possible end," she said as a matter-of-fact. "You will fall."

"I will _never_ fall!" he bellowed, veins protruding on his scarred face. "I will destroy you with your own soul!" He waved his hands, summoning demons and fiends from the dark corners of her realm. They growled and roared at her, terrifying in appearance. "I will destroy you with the power you should have had! I will escape this place!"

"Not here," she growled, drawing the silver sword. Only this time, with the power flowing in and out of her, her weapon was a black razor of the night sky, stars glowing brightly within. "You will never leave here."

She had but to look at the demons he'd summoned before they turned on him, clawing and gnashing their teeth. He took several blows before he found an opening to fight back. Barely managing to get a shield up before they ripped him to shreds, he quickly started his magical counter-attack. The demons hissed and shrieked, and only one fell before the others backed away.

That was when the bloody and torn Irenicus tried to attack her. His spells fizzled inched from her face. He coughed and spat blood, his expression still defiant even in the face of defeat. She enjoyed that rebellious attitude, was glad he wasn't whimpering on his knees like a pathetic worm. After everything he had put her through, put her friends through, after all the people he had killed in service of his own gain—she really would annihilate him if he turned coward at the end.

"No," he growled. "I won't be defeated by you! You are nothing! You are dead, stripped of your soul, of all of your power! How is this possible?"

"You brought me here, Irenicus! You poked and prodded until my power revealed itself, until I tapped into my potential. You bid me do it, haunted my dreams, forced me to see what was lurking in my shadow." With every accusation, she extended her will over the plane and used her power to strike him. He was knocked this way and that, into the ground, up into the air, and all around this dark space he had retreated to. "_You_ stole my soul. _You_ woke the Slayer in me. _You_ brought me here!" she exclaimed. "How is this possible? Irenicus. This is all your doing. And now I stand before you as everything you wanted me to be."

She dropped him onto the ground, beaten and bloody.

"No…" he gasped as he struggled to his knees, summoning what was left of his magic and unleashing it on her. It rebounded or dissipated against the invisible shield in her skin, the protection of her father, of her friends. "This isn't how it was meant to be—to be defeated like _this_!"

"Welcome to my father's realm, Irenicus. _My_ realm. You have no power here. And now you will never leave. You will _suffer_." Jayda brought the night-sword up to his throat, picked him up off the ground with the razor edge against his chin. He choked, bled, but rose to his feet. She walked him to the edge of the cliff and stopped. When his face was inches from hers, she whispered to him. "You will _wither_… you will _wane_… and you will _die_."

She pressed a little harder on her sword and cut open his throat, drawing her power out of his blood. Suddenly, she was whole again, renewed. Every inch of her felt alive, remade. She had reclaimed her soul! And he had turned gray like ash, veins black with diseased blood. His curse was once again upon him, power draining out of him with every drop of blood that hit her sword.

Jayda withdrew her blade and, when she did, Irenicus fell to his knees. The demons he had summoned leapt for him as she backed away, shrieking and howling to carry him off to his torment. To cease to exist was more than he deserved, and one day that end would come… but it would not come for a very long time.

"Look at you," Bhaal said, and Jayda had felt his presence long before he even spoke. She looked up at him, at his grin. He casually came closer, his head tilted up as he regarded her. He ran his fingers through the red energy sloughing off of her. "This is not the end, daughter. This is only the beginning. Now comes the inheritance." He narrowed his gaze on her. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, father," she replied. "But I will do it my way."

Bhaal's smiled widened. "That is the only way it can be done."

/

Gaelan stared numbly at the ruin around him. The chamber beneath the Tree of Life had been almost completely destroyed. The walls were falling apart, and the ground was uprooted in massive chunks and strewn everywhere. He could still see the black energy ripping out of Jayda's body, the columns of power appearing all around the room, tearing up everything they touched. He was calling her name, begging her to hear him, to find her control, but she couldn't hear him over her own screams. Even Irenicus was gaping in shock and fear. And then he had died, or that's what they had told him.

The next thing he remembered was opening his eyes to elves looming over him. There was the taste of a bitter nut on his tongue. The elves that had brought him back from the dead helped him sit up where he was able to see for himself just what kind of destruction had been caused.

There was a flood of elves in the ruin and each of Jayda's companions was being tended. Minsc and Anomen were already awake. Jaheira's quarterstaff was being pulled from her gut as priestesses worked healing magic over her. He saw elves stuffing an acorn into Imoen's mouth while others chanted spells, another group tending to Haer'dalis with an acorn, as well. Aerie's eyes were fluttering open and closed as she struggled to regain consciousness.

The Tree of Life had protected Ellesime and, when his eyes found her, she was bent over Jayda with several other elven clerics. They were chanting, praying, and murmuring spells. Ellesime kept glancing down at her body with sad, desperate eyes, and then she would call out to the Tree and to the Seldarine. Gaelan watched for hours as they tried to bring her back, and he felt his heart break when Ellesime, drained, finally tilted her head back and cried. Another elf reached out, placed two fingertips over Jayda's eyes, and murmured a prayer.

He looked up at those around him. All of the companions had woken up by now, lying there in varying degrees of pain with their vast injuries even the elven magic couldn't immediately heal. Jaheira was grasping her stomach, gaping at Jayda's body. Aerie was sobbing. Anomen was shouting at them to try harder. Haer'dalis, Minsc, and Imoen each had a blank look on their face.

Gaelan looked back at Jayda's corpse and felt bile rising inside of him. He turned and retched. Someone rushed to his side and murmured a spell, filling him with cool relief, but the magic could not stop his chest from constricting or heart from aching. This wasn't right—it wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to kill Irenicus, reclaim her soul. They were going back to Amn together. He was going to help her run a guildhouse. He would… he would marry her, even. They would have children together. Someday, they'd be retired thieves, basking in the shadows of Amn for the rest of their days.

He should have stopped her. No, he should've fought harder. He should've told her before this whole mess started to be careful, to stay in control. He should've helped her stay in control. But without her soul, she had said, it was impossible. So he should've gone to Brynnlaw with her, prevented this from happening, rescued Imoen on his own.

Gaelan hung his head in his hands, nerves unraveling with the pain and panic overwhelming him. There was no way he could pick himself up off this ground, not if this was to be her tomb. If she would lie here forever, so would he. He wanted to be near her until his eyes closed for good. He didn't know what would be on the other side—oblivion, heaven, or maybe she'd be waiting for him—but he couldn't imagine staying here in the land of the living without her. He lifted his head to stare at her, tried to will himself to move, to go to her, but his body was too weak.

And then something miraculous happened. Irenicus' body jerked, twisted, and darkened to a diseased lump of shriveled flesh. Then, Jayda opened her eyes. The elves near her, alarmed, cried out and lunged to attend to her. Jayda's wild, golden eyes darted around to take in her friends, who were gaping at her with sheet-white faces. She settled her gaze on Gaelan.

"…ali…ve…" she mumbled, and then her eyes closed again, tension leaving her body. The elves panicked, bending down to investigate. Ellesime waved them away, leaned down and pressed her nose to Jayda's, and stared deep into her.

"She's alive!" Ellesime announced, sitting up to look at them all. She smiled brightly. "She is alive!"

* * *

**A/N****:** Almost done! I can't believe how long this story is, and I already have the notion to go back to the beginning and pad it some, make it flow better. Regardless, I hope you have enjoyed it up to this point.

I have spend the last several chapters listening (practically) non-stop to Smile Empty Soul, especially songs from their new album "3's". There are a couple of songs I'd love for you guys to look up, because they were in my mind when I wrote certain scenes. The first is called "Carve", and it actually inspired the brand I placed on Jayda's back. It's sort of the song for Jayda and Bhaal in my head. The second song is "Hiding Place". I wrote the scene with Sarevok listening to this song. It was almost like a private conversation between her and him. I also used it for the scene when the companions all come to her in hell, because it felt right. She was ready to lose herself in hell, to hide away, and they had found her. Another song is called "Landslide" and it was a good back-drop for most of the hell scenes when I wasn't listening to the other two. "Sleep Deprivation" was used for several of the trials. Anyway, I just wanted to share these with you, especially "Carve" and "Hiding Place" as they were really important to me when I was writing. :)


	49. The Hero of Suldanessellar

**The Hero of Suldanessellar**

At first, all she could see was white, and a tall, dark shape warped in front of her. She tried to lift her head, but it was difficult to move.

"Ah," came a soft, relieved sigh. "You've finally come to. I almost did not believe it when you opened your eyes. I thought, perhaps it was some kind of trick. Even though your heart was still beating, we have all been waiting anxiously by your bed, hoping."

"Ellesime," Jayda croaked, squinting to make the room come into focus, but everything was still so white.

"Yes."

"The others…" she asked, raspy and quiet; she had lost her voice.

"We resurrected your friends. Fear not, child. The Tree of Life spared them. It was you that we all feared for. Nothing would draw your spirit back, it seemed…" Her voice wavered for just a moment. "We had just given up… when you managed to find your way back on your own."

Jayda's head slumped back against her pillow and she sighed in relief. "How long… was I…?"

"A few days, no more," Ellesime replied.

"My eyes—"

"A temporary condition. Your sight will return soon," she assured her. Jayda felt a body next to her, felt someone's hands holding hers. She opened her mouth to ask, but the Queen answered her before she could get the words out. "He wouldn't leave your side, this thief of yours."

Jayda smiled and squeezed Gaelan's hand. "Thank you…"

"Do not thank me," Ellesime said. "You… have done a great service for Suldanessellar. You saved the Tree of Life. You saved _my_ life, and you ended Irenicus' threat. You are a hero to the elves!"

"I didn't do it for your gratitude," Jayda mumbled, jaw clenched. She opened her eyes again. Ellesime was a dark silhouette this time, a lighter brown at the top of her head, but otherwise still blurry. "The hero of Baldur's Gate, and they all but kicked me out. Hero to the elves, but you were the ones who caused all of this."

"I know," she replied softly. "What our actions did to you is… Well, enough of this, for now. We will talk again when you have regained your strength." There was a knock on the door. "I will leave you to your friends. They have been very worried about you."

Jayda listened as Ellesime crossed the room, her dress rustling across the floor, and opened the door. More people shuffled inside and she recognized the large silhouette of Minsc. The others could only be the rest of her companions. Gaelan stirred at the noise, squeezed her hand as he sat up, and then suddenly stood and leaned toward her.

"Jayda," he mumbled.

"Jayda!" Imoen chirped. Jayda felt something rushing toward her and she threw her arm out, ignoring the pain that protested the movement, and her palm pressed against Imoen's face as the girl tackled her on the bed, holding her at bay. "Ow!" she grumbled, rubbing her nose. "Relax. It was just a flying hug!"

"Sorry, I... I've been on edge," Jayda rasped.

"On edge," Imoen repeated, grumbling. "You've been laying her like a limp noodle for four days…"

"Jayda," Jaheira began. "Your soul…"

"Is back where it belongs," she replied, trying to bring her friends into focus. One after the other, they told her how worried they had been and how glad they were that she was all right, everyone except Gaelan, who just sat there quietly and held her hand. They all agreed that they had feared the worst. "Guys," Jayda began, "have a little more faith in me than that."

It was the wrong joke to make, for it started a spiral of words all spoken at the same time. Of course they had faith in her, but not even the acorns from the sacred Tree of Life could wake her so what were they supposed to think, and she hadn't been awake and didn't see the destruction or how lifeless she had been. And then Aerie was crying and hugging her on her free side, Imoen was sniffling and hugging her from the front, and all she wanted was for them to stop making so much noise.

"What happened?" Gaelan asked quietly, and everyone else went silent. She held his hand tighter and he responded with a squeeze.

"I'll tell you," Jayda promised, "but not yet."

"She can barely speak, thief," Jaheira told him. "Let her get her voice back, at least."

They accepted that. After a little more conversation and expressed relief that she was all right, Jaheira ushered them all out so that Jayda could rest, pulling an "awww" out of Imoen and a "see ya" from Gaelan when they tried to pull him out of the chair. When the room was empty save for her and the thief, she watched his dark silhouette shift closer and felt the weight of him sinking onto the bed as he sat next to her.

"Ye scared me half to death, girl," he said.

"I know…" she mumbled, smiling. "I'm sorry."

"Ye sorry? That so? That mean ye'll stop bein' so daft and settle in one place, then?" He chuckled. "Ye make me worry more when I be with ye than when I'm home alone, wonderin' where in the Nine Hells ye are."

"Did I make you worry, Gaelan?" she asked with a grin.

"Does this face look worried to ye?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I can't see you."

He tensed over her. "Ye… blind?"

"Not forever. When I first woke, I could only see dark shapes moving in light. Now, I can see your silhouette. Ellesime assures me it will return."

"Why didn't ye say somethin'?"

"I didn't want to worry everyone further…" She reached up to touch his cheek and grimaced. Her body hurt to move. Gaelan gently took hold of her arm and laid it back onto the bed.

"Don't overdo it," he murmured, leaning close to her face. "I'll come to ye."

"You're always coming to me…"

This close, she could see his lips pull into a grin. "Not so," he said. "The first night, it was you walkin' through me door. Stash ye gold, indeed."

She laughed and wanted to say something but his touches silenced her. Jayda closed her eyes as his fingers glided across her skin, over her shoulders and collarbone, up her neck, along her jaw. He gently prodded her lips apart, thumb leisurely tracing their shape. She was so filled up with his touch that she didn't need her eyes to see him. He kissed her, slowly and sensually, letting the tension build until it was a blissful torture. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, roll around in the sheets with fervor and passion and want. She needed him, and this slow kiss so full of sensual but desperate love was driving her over the edge. She thought she had killed him! She thought she had lost him forever! Now, she was overflowing with her feelings, with her desire to love him. Holding back was too hard and yet moving would be worse. So she succumbed to his kisses, forced herself to relax. Once she focused on her love instead of her passion, she was able to accept the slow and tender exchange, and she felt as though she were melting.

Gaelan gently bit her lip when he pulled back then laid next to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. They laid like that in silence for awhile, content to be near each other. Jayda snuggled close and listened to the sound of his heartbeat like she was afraid it might suddenly stop, as though this were the dream and the Nine Hells had been reality—a reality she belonged to.

"Ye eyes be gray again," he murmured, and she detected relief in his tone.

"I have my soul back," she told him. "And I have learned control. Struggling without it—without my soul—I think made it easier when I got it back."

"It really be that simple?"

"I don't remember it being simple…"

"Ye know what I mean."

She nodded. "Gaelan… what happened when you died?"

"I donno," he confessed. "I only remember wakin' up."

"When I died… I went to the Nine Hells," she confessed. "Sarevok was there… waiting for me... He wanted to fight me, for me to tap into the power and defeat him. But that's not what I wanted."

"No?"

"No. I wanted him to forgive me." She looked up at him. "Is that strange?"

"No," he replied quietly.

"I killed him again. He didn't forgive me… but I think he wanted to." Her voice spiked from her sore throat and Gaelan reached out and gently held her neck, thumb brushing her skin lovingly. "He wanted to. I know he did."

Gaelan kissed her forehead. She snuggled up to him, enjoying his gentleness. As a lover, he had always been respectful. He had never kicked her out of his bed or told her he didn't care about what she had to say. He listened to her stories, her fears, her pain and he comforted her, offered advice if he could. She had known he was a good man, but she hadn't known that he would follow her into her madness. She had wanted his affection, but had never imagined she would earn his love. It was probably the best gift she had ever received, the greatest surprise since Gorion had given her that leather belt with all the pouches on it for her twelfth birthday. She had been overjoyed, running around like a true adventurer for months after. When she grew out of it, she'd been devastated, poking new holes right up to the end of the strap until it just wouldn't fit her anymore. Part of her was afraid that she would grow into something he couldn't love anymore. But if he was still here after all that had happened, holding her and kissing her forehead… maybe there was room to hope that this could last.

"When I came to you that night to stash my gold," she began and felt him stir, lifting his head to watch her, "I didn't intend to sleep with you. I…" She felt heat rushing into her cheeks, wondering why she was embarrassed now of all times, after everything they had been through together. "I liked you. You were this charming, handsome rogue that distracted me from my troubles and… I just wanted to spend time with you. I wanted your attentions, however brief, but I never imagined you were really interested."

"That I wasn't interested or too professional to act on it, I wonder which it was ye truly thought." He grinned. "And why would the lady think that, ay?"

"Maybe both," she replied with a sheepish shrug. "Either way, I assumed I was just a job."

"Aye, just a job," he repeated, amused. "One I could barely keep me hands off, I recall. When Aran handed me the job, I was grindin' lockpicks to hand it back, but when I saw ye come through the Promenade, I was thinkin', 'here be the goddess Sune come to Athkatla' and I couldn't help but watch a little 'fore makin' me approach."

"Sune?" she echoed in disbelief.

"Aye, s'what I said. What? Ye ears not workin' right, either?" he asked. She went to playfully smack him but he held her arm down and kissed her. "Ye have no idea how much I wanted ye. And when I had ye, I was so satisfied, I needed more. Then I realized," he suddenly became very serious, "I had feelin's for ye. I felt guilty 'bout how we used ye, and I didn't want it to play out, 'cause if ye didn't survive Bodhi's lair, the alternative was just as bad. Ye'd sail away, and never come back. I couldn't handle that."

Jayda was shocked at his honesty. "Gaelan…"

"I thought ye were dead, Jayda," he said, mouth set in a grim line. "I stared at ye corpse for hours, watched the elves give up tryin' to bring ye back. If there ever was a reason to play it close to the chest, s'gone now."

She nodded. "When you told me to quit being a Bhaalspawn and just be a Shadow Thief, I want you to know… I wanted that more than anything." His thumb glided over her lip as he nodded. "And one day… I will stop being a Bhaalspawn."

"One day," he repeated, almost as a question. "Ye killed the wizard and got ye soul back, and it still it'n over."

"No," she confirmed, "it isn't, not yet. One day but not yet. When that day comes, if you're still content with me, I will be just another Shadow Thief of Amn."

"Me content with you? I'm not the one runnin' around with a bunch of knights and bards lookin' at me like I hung the moon," he reminded her, and she laughed.

"Jealous, Gaelan?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"You needn't be," she whispered and kissed him.

/

It was three days before her eyesight returned fully and she was strong enough to resume daily activities on her own. Jayda had not spoken with Ellesime since she'd first woken and she was glad for it. Her companions had been respectful of that and had not pressed her for any explanations regarding the battle against Irenicus and what had happened beneath the Tree of Life. Instead, they did their best to lift her spirits, and she could tell how each of them felt so refreshed and happy now that the presumed threat had passed. The elves of Suldanessellar had received them warmly and treated them with the utmost care. In spite of the ruin of much of the city, the beauty and peace of this place could not be destroyed and it was doing much to quicken their recovery.

Even though Jayda could not share entirely in their mirth, their presence and smiles was to her as the serenity of Suldanessellar was to them. She dreaded having to answer their questions and explain what had happened to her. She knew they would not like what she had to say and it would either trouble them or anger them. But it had to be said. They deserved to know. She had spent all of her waking moments trying to figure out what to say, what not to say, and how to make them understand—especially Jaheira, who would not appreciate her newfound acceptance of her heritage. There was no right or wrong way, she knew, and even though she had decided on a general speech, she was positive it would change when she was actually in the moment.

So when she was more her old self again, she took them out to a private terrace. The weather was warm and breezy, and the sun was setting. She hoped the tranquility would ease her message.

"You won't like what you're about to hear," Jayda warned them, but no one seemed to care. "That day, under the tree, I saw everything was going wrong. Aerie was… and then Anomen and Imoen—" She made a face. "—I told you to stay! Next time, listen to me!" It was a weak chastisement at best. After everything that had happened, she lacked the ability to muster enough anger at them. "I tried to bring the Slayer out, but I lost control."

"All of the power you had was unleashed," Haer'dalis guessed, and she nodded.

"I didn't want… you know I never meant to…" she stammered, and Gaelan reached out and covered her hand with his. She took a deep breath and continued. "When I died, I went to the Nine Hells." They all visibly tensed, staring in shock. "I faced Irenicus, tried to release the Slayer again, but something else happened. I became a… a conduit of power—it's hard to explain. There, power passed into me and out of me—through me. I was a harness, a tool. Like a water wheel. The power was the water, I was the wheel… and with every turn, I became more powerful. I became the Slayer… but not my father's avatar. _My_ avatar."

"_Your_ avatar?" Imoen said, frowning.

"Yes. I know it sounds crazy… but when that happened, when I concentrated that power, when I felt it all flowing through me… I just _knew_."

"Knew what?"

"That I was the child of a god. And now that I have my soul back, I can turn it off… I couldn't do that before. Maybe I can't control it entirely, but at least the Slayer obeys _me_ now. And…" She took a deep breath. "I met my father."

"Your… father?" Jaheira asked. Was that hurt or confusion on her face? "Gorion was in the Nine Hells? I don't understand."

"Not Gorion," Jayda corrected her. "My real father. Bhaal."

"Gorion was your real father," Jaheira insisted, and the others cringed, unsure of whether to agree with her or stop her. "Bhaal was just a donor!"

"Call it what you will, I'd not be here if Bhaal hadn't raped my mother," Jayda said solemnly, and Jaheira went very still. "Gorion was a good man. He raised me well, made sure I wanted for nothing that was in his power to provide, but I was never a daughter to him. There was always a barrier between his duty and his love, and I was a duty to him."

"It wasn't always easy for Gorion to—"

"You don't need to defend him, Jaheira," she said. "He was a good man. I loved him. I still love him. But Bhaal… you didn't see. I am just like him, Jaheira." She looked at everyone's faces. "I know what you want to tell me: that I'm not like him, that I am my own person, and you'd be half right. Don't worry, I won't fall into that trap again, being worried about whether or not I'll turn into him. He and I have come to an understanding on that…"

"An understanding?" Anomen asked, brow furrowed in his confusion.

"Yes. When I arrived in the Nine Hells, I was made to endure five trials designed to show me who I am. The truth of who I am."

"What kind of truths?" Imoen asked skeptically.

"That I'm no different than anyone else?" she countered with a smile.

What could she say? They knew she was driven and stubborn, but did they know she was a hypocrite, too? They knew the losing battle she had been fighting with her self-control, but they didn't know that she had killed a man bound chains for a powerful sword. She knew the truths they were afraid she'd learned—truths that connected her with Bhaal, that made her out to be an evil being just like him, that she would gladly accept the gifts he offered to her. It wasn't true, but she couldn't explain it to them. The trials were hers and recounting her successes felt like bragging while telling them the details of her failures was more than she could bear.

There was, however, one thing she could say to them and hoped that it would be enough to explain everything.

"I… asked Sarevok for forgiveness," she said and smiled faintly.

"Sarevok!" Imoen gasped.

"Boo does not understand!" Minsc exclaimed. "Why would you ask for such a thing from that monster?"

"He is my brother," Jayda said a little more forceful than she intended.

"He killed Gorion—" Jaheira hissed.

"I remember. He tried to kill me, too." She pulled up her tunic to show them the scar, the knotted curve like a sinister worm in her skin, wrapping around her hip and climbing up into her gut. "I killed him in return. But Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn, same as me, whose mother was raped by a god, who was abandoned for the world to shape him. Gorion didn't rescue him. No one did. Would I be any different than Sarevok were he the child Gorion chose and me the one adopted into the Anchev line? No matter what he did, no matter what he would do—he is my brother, and I vowed to kill him instead of help him."

"You couldn't have known," Jaheira reminded her.

"I knew he was my brother when I bled him. Sarevok was an evil man," Jayda said with a nod, "but I didn't even try to save him. And that makes me no different than him. He tried to kill me because of a prophecy, because of his misguided belief that his actions could earn our father's… _love_"—it was said sarcastically, for Sarevok's words had been the only way of explaining it—"but I _did_ kill him, and I did it for revenge. And I needed him to forgive me, because I was rescued… but no one tried to save him, and he became our father's tool anyway only to be cast down and forgotten at my hand."

They were all silent for a moment as the truth of what she was trying to tell them finally sank in. Haer'dalis cleared his throat.

"Did he forgive you?" the bard asked and all eyes focused on her in anticipation.

"No," Jayda murmured, "but he wanted to. He called me 'sister' and then he died again…"

"I'm sure that meant he did forgive you," Haer'dalis said, "even though he could not say it aloud."

Jayda smiled and nodded. After she had taken a few moments to mentally move on from Sarevok's second death, she continued. "And then I met Bhaal, and we talked… father to daughter. I came to understand who I am, after all this time."

"How is that possible?" Anomen asked. "Bhaal is dead."

"No," Jayda told him. "He survived through his children."

"I do not like where this is headed," Jaheira said, concern etched in her brow. "How could you come to know yourself through that evil entity?"

"Do you want to know what Bhaal looks like?" she asked, and several of them visibly stiffened. "Just look at me. I am the very image of the mortal Bhaal, the Bhaal that was once human."

"A trick," Aerie gasped.

"No. It was no trick. And he was an assassin—did you know?" Jayda looked pointedly at Jaheira. "He was a rogue, like me. We even fight the same—with the same instincts and movements. So you see, I was always a Bhaalspawn… was always a Child of Bhaal, even in Gorion's care. And do you know what Gorion changed?" No one said anything. Jayda tapped her chest. "My heart. He made sure the desire to use Bhaal's power already inside of me would never manifest, and that I would lack any ambition to chase after his kingdom. And do you know what Bhaal said when I told him how Gorion saved me and foiled his plans?" Again, no one answered. "That Gorion did him a favor, and he thanked him for it."

"He's wrong!" Imoen protested.

"Because I strove to be strong on my own, I became more powerful than any of his other children who depend upon his gifts for their strength. Because I ran from my destiny, I've killed more than I would have had I embraced it. Because I didn't want to kill but did, those lives lost were sweeter than any amount of slaughter Sarevok had inflicted." Jaheira suddenly stood up, upset. "I have become exactly what he wanted me to be."

Jaheira walked toward the edge of the terrace as though she would leave. Jayda could see in her tense muscles all of her frustration and anguish. Of all of her companions, Jaheira had sacrificed the most. She had been Gorion's friend long before Jayda had come into his life, and she and her husband had vowed to him to protect his ward with their lives—to protect the Child of Bhaal and prevent her from becoming like her true, dark father. With that vow, their lives had become dedicated to some angry, red-headed half-elf they barely knew, and yet they had remained true. Khalid had given his life for that mission and Jaheira had been tortured for it. She bore the festering taint in the scar Jayda had tried to heal. She fought bravely for her with unshakable loyalty, and now she was forced to hear how all of her and Khalid's and Gorion's effort had been in service to their enemy.

Jayda wouldn't blame her for leaving.

Jaheira stopped and stood very still for a long time. Then, she turned around and came back. When she sat down and looked up at Jayda, her eyes held her strong resolve once more. Jayda smiled, relieved that she hadn't lost one of her best friends.

"This thing with Irenicus was the beginning, a prelude to what is to come," Jayda told them. "The inheritance, he called it. I don't know when or what will happen. I know he has his own plans for me, but I'll do what I mean to do, and I'll do it my way."

"On whose strength?" Anomen asked, and she could see in his eyes the wariness mingling with the want for trust.

"My own," she assured him firmly, and then her voice softened. "And… all of yours, if you'll stand with me. If it weren't for you, my friends, I probably wouldn't have been able to face Irenicus."

"If not… for us?" Imoen asked, confused.

"Yes." Jayda smiled, reached out, and touched Imoen's chest. "Do you not feel lighter, little sister?"

There was a drawn out moment where Imoen laid her hand over Jayda's and said nothing. Then, finally, the pink-headed girl nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "How?"

"Do you not remember?" In the silence, Jayda looked at all of her friends. "Any of you?" More silence. She dropped her head to her chest and smiled. Maybe they would remember in time, maybe never. It didn't matter. "You all helped me," was all she gave in the way of explanation, "when I needed you most."

"All of us?" Aerie asked with her usual uncertainty.

"All of you," Jayda confirmed. "I wouldn't blame you if you leave Suldanessellar and go your own way. Each of you have given me more than any person has a right to ask for. You have lived and fought and died for me, because of me, and it will only get worse from here. I won't blame you if you say you've had enough."

"You won't blame us?" Jaheira snapped coldly. "I have given you everything I have, Child of Bhaal! My life, my husband, my magic, my weapon, my service! You wouldn't blame me if I retreat, empty-handed, from your side. _You_ tell _me_ what you want, or I will—I swear to Silvanus—I'll walk away right now and never look back."

Jayda clenched her jaw as she stared at her druid friend. She had never heard so much anger in her voice before, never seen such coldness in her eyes. Had she really been driven to the edge? Of course she had, and it was impressive that her edge hadn't been reached a long time ago.

"I want you to stay," Jayda said firmly. "I need you to stay. All of you. Stay with me, please. I can't face this alone. Bhaal thinks I'm strong because I fought without his power, but the truth is I fought with yours instead. And when I lost you under the Tree of Life," she sniffed, surprised to find tears on her cheeks, "I lost me, too."

Imoen and Aerie were suddenly hugging her while the others reached out to touch her shoulders or hands. Jaheira nodded solemnly when Jayda's gaze locked with hers. For the first time in a very long time, Jaheira smiled at her like she used to do when Khalid was alive. Minsc, too, was smiling as though he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. She didn't know why they were proud of her confession. She still hated the thought of obligating them into fighting and dying for her. Perhaps because she wanted her life to be her choice, she wanted their decision to stay with her to be theirs as well.

"They already made the choice," Haer'dalis whispered in her ear, amazing her once more with how well he could read her heart. "What they were waiting to hear was that it wasn't in vain."

Jayda met his glittering eyes. When he smiled, she smiled, too, and grasped his outstretched hand tightly.

/

The vigil took place in the dead of night. It was a ceremony of passing where the elves sang and honored their dead. Jayda and her friends attended as well. For Jayda, she needed to quietly apologize to those she couldn't help when she had come into the city—those that had been dragged screaming out of their homes and killed while she waited quietly behind their house for the way to clear. She had wanted to help them, and looking back on it… felt she could have saved them. She knew why she made the choice at the time, but living with all of her choices was not always easy.

At some point during the vigil, they were lead to a large pyre where Irenicus' body was laid. Ellesime and Elhan both held torches, as well as several other prominent members of the elven community. Jayda stood back solemnly until Ellesime handed her a torch and bid her join them. They approached the altar of bound branches and stared at the disfigured corpse. A whirlwind of emotions crashed through her—hatred, anger, fear, pain, pity, relief, power.

Irenicus, her tormenter, was dead. She had triumphed over him just as she had over Sarevok. But Irenicus had been made into the person she had killed—made into that person by the elves. Was he so different than she and Sarevok? The world was awash with victims, those villains merely crafted products of chance. Alaundo had prophesied what the Bhaalspawn would do, what she would do. Was Irenicus' decent into madness and evil a prophecy as well? Or just a roll of the dice? Perhaps, Alaundo was mad, and her life was just a roll of the dice as well.

"The man whom we once knew as Joneleth," Ellesime began, breaking the silence, "died long ago. He was a good man, kind and gentle, who served the Seldarine and his people with all of his ability. He was chosen for a great destiny, given mighty gifts for a higher calling, but that was not the path that _he_ chose for himself. He once was one of the best of us, and he lives in my memory still. Tonight, we say goodbye to that man.

"And tonight, we say goodbye to the man that he became… the Exile, Irenicus. He violated our sacred Tree, defiled our city, slaughtered our people, and profanely sought to join our pantheon for no one's gain but his own. To him… let us send our prayer that he finds the peace in death he never found in life."

The elves threw their torches on the pyre and watched it catch fire. Jayda held back a moment, replaying Ellesime's words in her head. She thought about the duality of one person's identity—who they were, who they wanted to be, who they became… and the idea of a path being chosen for you and a path that you choose yourself. How was it that Jayda could stand before so many of her enemies and, at their end, see herself in them?

"Farewell, Joneleth," Ellesime said quietly beside her, and the emotion of a mourning lover could be heard in her voice.

Jayda took a deep breath, pushing the heavy thoughts aside for the moment. There was one thing she was certain about: there would be no peace for dear ole Joneleth. She had made certain of that. Would someone make that same choice for her one day?

She stepped closer to the pyre, to the flames. "You used me as a tool to gain power, trampled over my life and my friends. I was a worthless worm in your eyes. Now, you will spend eternity thinking of me and how I defeated you, how I left you for dead as you did to me." She leaned closer and whispered. "But from this day forward, I will never think of you again."

Jayda threw her torch on the pyre and bid the mad mage farewell.

/

The sound of the celebration carried out into the streets. Music and laughter could be heard throughout half the damn city—not that it mattered, for the whole of Suldanessellar's population was in attendance. Ellesime had wanted to honor the saviors of the Tree of Life and so had organized a grand ceremony. Perhaps it was her intention to prove to Jayda that the elves were sincere in their gratitude. Jayda had no doubt that it was true, only how long it would last. Baldur's Gate had been grateful, too. Once.

She took a deep breath and stared down at the amulet she had been given—a gift when no reward was adequate enough for what they had done, so Ellesime had declared. She could feel the magic pulsing in the metal under her fingers but couldn't bring herself to put it on. She was already dressed in elven garb, tamed into their representation of what was beautiful. They had tried to stuff her in a dress, but it was open-backed and she almost laughed when they stared upon the horror carved into her back—at the brand of the symbol of Bhaal and the five Tears still embedded in her skin. So they gave her an elegant tunic and pants, making her feel out of place considering even Jaheira—a woman of leather and war—wore a gown.

She sighed. Who was she kidding? She had nearly laughed at them when they saw her scar, but then she had cried alone when they had gone. The brand, she had hoped, would have left her when she came back from the Nine Hells, but it did not. Gaelan had come in, made love to her, told her that he didn't care. She believed him. But she cared. She didn't want to carry that marker around for the rest of her life. When she had received her first battle scar, she had cried because she knew it would be on her forever. She had soon learned to live with that, and now she took an ounce of pride in those scars. But this was different… and she was still a woman, a woman that wanted to be beautiful to the man she loved.

Soft footsteps approached and Jayda instantly recognized the presence of the elven queen.

"Ellesime," Jayda said without looking at her.

"I'm surprised you're still here. You seemed so anxious to be done with us. I'm glad you decided to stay. You have done so much for us and we wanted to honor you properly."

"I stayed for them," Jayda told her, nodding toward her friends glimpsed between the columns in the far-off promenade. "They deserved to be honored after all they've been through with me. They deserve this rest. I can see how much peace they find here."

"I can see how little you have found," Ellesime said, stepping closer to her. "I… I feel I must… apologize on his behalf. For what he put you and your friends through." Jayda looked at her. "For his madness, we stripped Joneleth of his elven immortality and exiled him… only to create Irenicus, instead. I cannot help but feel we are partly responsible for everything he did to you. It is something I shall have to ponder on."

"Party responsible?" Jayda echoed in disbelief. "You're entirely responsible! You elves think you're so above everyone else and that you can just dump your problems on the rest of the world because you're above dealing with it the right way! Bodhi was mad and she corrupted her brother. You were his lover! Did you save him? No, you let him descend into his hunger for power. Don't tell me you didn't notice! Don't tell me there was nothing you could do. And when it was all said and done, when you had let him become the monster he was destined to be, you couldn't just end it, could you? You had to strip him of everything that made him an elf in hopes to teach him a lesson!"

"You have no idea what that's life for an elf," Ellesime countered.

"No?" Jayda exclaimed. "I know more of it than you do, your majesty. You inflicted the worst punishment you could think of on him, and then he did it to me to save himself from your curse. Stripping someone of their soul? It's evil, no matter who you are. Yet somehow you think you're justified. You took his soul but couldn't strip him of his magic. So you unleashed a powerful, psychotic mage on the rest of us and thought what? That because he was mortal, he would die quickly? And then we come to the sheer stupidity of you believing that this kind of torment would actually _change_ him back into a good man. You shattered the last of his morality. There was no way he could want more than revenge, no way he could feel more than hatred."

"Jayda—"

"No, don't. You _knew_ what would happen and you didn't care. Your only interest was in covering up your mistakes, to hide your 'shame'—as Elhan put it. And what's worse is that you haven't even learned your lesson, have you? You'll do it again if someone violates your sacred Tree because you believe you're above us. The elves. So wise and pure. No better than their dark elf counterparts, just a different kind of extreme. You act like the gods, meddling in everyone's lives as though you have a right!"

"Jayda," Ellesime said more forcefully. She did not look angry, only sad. "If I had known what Joneleth would do to you, I would never have inflicted that punishment on him. I simply would have ended it. Perhaps my hopes were too lofty, blinded by my love for him, and I was pleased when the Seldarine offered that punishment for it meant there was still a chance, however slim, for Joneleth to return to me. The Seldarine are not easily understood or to be second-guessed, but I am just as responsible for what we inflicted upon him and what he became." She cleared her throat and Jayda felt like a child under Ellesime's wizened gaze. "I know how angry you are with us. I only hope that one day you can come to understand our decisions, even if you believe they were wrong."

The self-righteousness of the elves infuriated her. Elhan had told her to tread carefully upon entering the city—it was sacred ground where few non-elves had walked before. Suldanessellar was burning and its people being slaughtered, and he was telling her to watch her step? He could save his own city! Then there was the way they looked down on her for being born of such an evil god. Elhan had referred to Ellesime as having a link to the divine not unlike Jayda's, but through a much more 'benevolent spirit'. But it was Bhaal's power in her that had saved them!

"The evil that was Irenicus has passed, at great cost to you, but it has passed," she said and smiled. "Can you not take joy in that?"

"No," Jayda said and straightened up to her full height before the queen. "No, I cannot. It has ended for the elves, but not for me. This struggle you and your people caused have placed me in a sticky position. You see, now that I've had to fight and scrape and claw for my life, for my soul, I have been brought to the brink of my self-control. I have been forced to find the power Bhaal hid inside of me, and I have become stronger, Bhaal's essence more potent, and now I am primed for his plans. Irenicus forced this out of me and now I am thrown into a much more dangerous game. It is far from over. It is just the beginning."

Ellesime sighed. "I am truly sorry, Jayda."

"No you're not!" she screamed. Maybe she was being unreasonable, but she was so sick of it. How far would she want them to go before she could accept their apology? Perhaps they could never do enough. She didn't know. All she knew was that she could not yet find it in her heart to forgive them. "Your elves have looked down on me since I got here! Don't soil our precious, pure streets with your dirty feet, outsider! Try not to defile our serenity and goodness with that evil spirit inside of you, Bhaalspawn! But now that I've saved you with my dirty, outsider, Bhaalspawn hands, you all sing praises?" She lifted up her tunic and turned her back to Ellesime so that she could see her scar. "This happened to me _here_, in _your_ city! If I had left your sacred stones to rot—and who could blame me after what you created did to me, who could blame me with how _evil_ I am, Child of _Bhaal_—then this would never have happened to me!"

With a sympathetic expression, Ellesime reached out to touch the brand, but Jayda whirled around and grabbed the queen's hand.

"If I am evil," Jayda murmured, "then what are you?"

"We all are a force in this world, Jayda," Ellesime gently said. "None of us are all-knowing, not even gods. We made choices, just like you, that have affected others in ways we never intended. We have to live with all of our choices, even when it isn't easy. The pride of the elves is not always a strength, for it is very difficult for us to see our failures and live with our shame. We were wrong to look down on you and your gifts because you were the one that saved us. Can we not learn something from you?"

"Can you?" Jayda asked, partly in bitterness and partly in genuine wonder.

"You are angry and you are hurting," Ellesime said, drawing Jayda close. She touched her back gently. "Would that I could shield you from what is to come, but I cannot. I fear it will be a long time before you find your peace, but I believe whole-heartedly that it will come. One day."

Jayda felt a pulse of magic release into her. Then, the pain in her back ebbed. She reached back and felt smooth skin. Her gaze snapped up to Ellesime's, a frown of confusion etched into her brow.

"How did you—" she began.

"I'm afraid it won't last," the queen told her. "The power behind that mark is something I cannot fight. It will come back one day, but at least for now… that will be one less burden you have to bear." Ellesime tipped Jayda's head up by the chin and smiled at her. "You inspire me, Child of Bhaal, and I will never forget what you have done for us and for me, or how brightly you burn in such darkness."

Jayda swallowed the lump in her throat, forgetting—at least for the moment—all of her anger.

...

Anomen laughed as he watched Imoen go twirling by, caught in the arms of some young and regal elf. Somewhere out there in the sea of dancers, he had seen Aerie's small frame gently supported by Minsc, the giant of a man that he was, as she politely instructed him where and how to step. Haer'dalis, who normally would have been hopping energetically between activities—dancing, singing, swiping some elf's instrument to play, charming the crowd—was rather reserved and instead merely talked with some of the other guests, eyes alert on the events around him.

Jaheira hung back to talk as well, and even she wore a bright smile and a lovely gown, accentuating her natural beauty. When he thought of how hard a woman she had become and how tough she was forced to be day after day, the weariness of her losses only seemed to show on her face. But here, with her long, chestnut hair curling around her shoulders, and her lips pulled into a bright smile, he could see the woman she had once been when her husband had been alive. He had never known Khalid, only heard the stories, but his heart ached at the thought of their tragic story.

Anomen scanned the crowd, wondering when Jayda might return. He had seen her slip out shortly after the festivities had begun. When he had started to go after her, Gaelan stopped him then slipped to the edge of the pavilion to wait for her. He didn't blame her for wanting to escape. He knew her feelings on the elves, but he also saw the heavy shadows under her eyes. There was a burden she carried ever since her trip to the Nine Hells. When he asked her about it, she said, "On the contrary, Anomen, I feel quite liberated," but he knew she was dodging the question.

There was a small commotion nearby and he turned to investigate. Jayda had returned with Queen Ellesime and, this time, she wore a beautiful dress made of night-silk. He had never seen her look so lovely. His throat went dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. In moments like these, he remembered why he had once believed he was in love with her.

Anomen smiled and quickly pounced before anyone else could. He knew Haer'dalis would try to steal her away and that once Gaelan got a hold of her, she would be off-limits for the rest of the night.

"Would my lady spare a dance?" he asked, bowing before her. She flushed in embarrassment.

"Anomen, I don't dance," she mumbled. "You know that."

"I know the bard did an excellent job teaching you." He took her hands and coaxed her into the crowd. "Now I know your first instinct is to lead, but this time you must follow, my lady." He pulled her into his arms and began leading her into the dance. She laughed, tripping over her feet a few times, but by the second turn she had eased into the movements and allowed him to guide her. "Very good."

"Yes, and next adventure, I'll leave you in charge," she joked.

"That would be tragic for all of us, I'm afraid. We'd find ourselves in the middle of some great crusade against the vile orc tribes of Tethyr."

"Ah, yes, ever the knight. I am sure the Order is wondering where you escaped to."

"I am quite sure they already know."

"Are you looking forward to finally entering their service?" she asked. "I've kept you busy since you became a knight."

"You are the reason I became a knight, so I haven't felt as though I've lost any time with them. Still, I do feel somewhat excited to join Ser Ryan Trawl in the south." He squinted at her. "You will send word if you plan to leave, won't you?"

"Of course," she assured him. "Since it's quite clear you intend to do whatever you please, I see no reason to hide anything anymore."

"You know me so well, my lady," he began, pausing only to twirl her. "When we return to Athkatla, I plan to visit my sister's grave. I would like it very much if you would accompany me."

"Of course," she said and then suddenly hugged him. He gently held her close, feeling slightly awkward. He was used to Jayda in her armor, strong and fierce, but like this—in a silk gown with her skin exposed—she seemed almost delicate. "Thank you for being such a good friend to me, Anomen."

"I have only given what I have received in return. You have been there for me in my darkest hours. I would never leave you to face yours alone." He pulled her back into the dance and cleared his throat. "And, ceremony aside, might I say how lovely you look?"

"Ceremony aside, huh?" She laughed, her eyes glittering. It put him at ease. "Can I tell you something I've never told anyone?"

"Of course." He frowned, mentally preparing himself for whatever serious thing was about to come out of her mouth.

"I've always dreamed of having a family of my own. A really big family, with lots of brothers and sisters, and loving parents, and uncles and aunts. And no matter what, you'd never feel alone or unloved." She tilted her head at him, and he looked for some trace of sadness in her but could find none. "I cannot say, 'if I ever had a brother' because I did have one and he is nothing like you. But, if I could pick for myself, I would choose you. You'd be my big… no, little brother!" She suddenly pinched his cheek. "And I'd visit you at the temple all the time, and come to all your tournaments, and write letters to you while you're away, and I'd never miss an opportunity to tell you how proud of you I am. If you were my little brother."

Anomen felt his heart beat faster and his insides heat up. Her dream was so innocent and so full of warmth that it made him want to cry. He thought it sounded wonderful, if no one thought it strange that this little brother had once had a crush on his older sister.

"Your spontaneous visits would make that day better than all the others, and I would eagerly await your letters when in the field. I would sneak out of the Order as often as I could to walk you home at night, and I would chase after your every adventure so that I could keep you safe. And you'd likely be adopted because of the whole Bhaalspawn thing, but I would never remind you of this, and tell you every day how you inspire me to be a better man than I am, and that by watching you I feel that nothing is impossible. If I were your little brother." He thought she might cry in that moment, and felt extremely guilty. He had seen enough of her tears and never wanted to be the cause for more. "But you know, my lady, I may not be your real brother, but I consider you family. And so does Jaheira and Minsc and Aerie. The bard, as free a bird he claims to be, would sooner die than leave your side. As it turns out, Imoen _is_ your real sister. And Gaelan, well… that is none of my business. Still, when you think about it, doesn't that seem like a big family to you?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, voice scratchy with emotion. "Yes it does."

...

Imoen plopped into a chair next to Jaheira, watching Gaelan step in and steal Jayda from Anomen; she giggled at that. As she sat there trying to catch her breath, she glanced at the druid and noted her solemn expression.

"You all right there, Jaheira?" she asked, lightly tapping her arm. "You look too serious for this kind of celebration. What's the matter? Not enough wine?"

"I've had plenty of wine. I was just thinking of the last time I attended a gala such as this. Khalid and I danced all night."

"Oh… I'm sorry…" She twisted her mouth and mentally kicked herself.

"It's all right," Jaheira assured her.

"Are you sure?" Imoen shifted in her chair. "You were really upset the other night… when Jayda told us about… you know, about Bhaal…" She watched the druid's gaze drop. "Well, if you ever need to talk, I'd, you know, I'd listen."

"I was worried… but I'm not anymore. I believe in her. Gorion was a dear friend, but Jayda has become family. Khalid thought so, too, back then. And no matter what she has done, I realized that I have always followed her and trusted her." Jaheira turned and looked at her with her strong, determined gaze and Imoen felt very small next to her. "Even Bhaal will not change that."

"Do you really think it's true? Do you really think it's not over?"

"We have always known it wasn't," Jaheira replied.

"Speak for yourself," she muttered in exasperation. "After Sarevok, I really thought it was over!"

"With such a heritage, there can be no haven. Jayda was attempting to run, and do you know why people run, Imoen? Because something or someone is chasing them. She knew that even then. It was run or die. And now she has chosen to stand up and fight."

"Wait, wait, wait just a damn minute. You think she's going to _die_?" Imoen gasped.

"She is caught in the whirlwind now. I do not think she will give in easily. But if she does not prove strong enough, I do not think Bhaal will allow her to live."

Imoen sank low into her chair, suddenly feeling depressed. "I'm glad I kicked that part of me. I don't belong in that family even a little bit." She 'hmph'd' and folded her arms over her chest. "We can still help her, right? This is still something we can help her do, isn't it?"

Jaheira smiled. "Do you think she could do it without us?" Her amusement faded and she returned her gaze to Jayda on the dance floor. The Bhaalspawn had her head on Gaelan's shoulder, body folded into his possessive hug, and her face was flushed as they gently swayed back and forth in a slow dance. "Only she can end this, but there is much to do before then. We will make sure she gets there, right?"

"Right," Imoen said. "With us around, nothing can go wrong!"

Jaheira laughed. "I certainly hope you're right about that…"

/

In a dark room, five robed figures sat around a table and a sole light shown done on them from a bone chandelier. Their hoods cast their eyes in shadow, but every person at the table knew the one that sat next to him or her. They had gathered after the rumors of what had happened in Suldanessellar had reached their ears. Some came in panic, others in anger, but they all came in agreement that none of them had expected to hear the news.

The Bhaalspawn known as Jayda had, without her soul, saved an entire elven city and killed the mad wizard that had stolen her soul. There were even whispers that she had spoken with her dark father, inciting jealousy in the cults that still worshipped the dead Lord of Murder.

"Gorion's ward has become too powerful!" the elven woman exclaimed. "We should have acted long before now."

"There is no reason to be concerned," another said, his blue and scaly skin glistening wetly in the throw of light. "The fate of this _fool_ has been sealed."

"But can we be so sure?" the Drow female hissed. The giant on her side tossed his head to look at those gathered in hopes of an answer, his red beard hanging below his cowl.

"This spawn of Bhaal is doomed," said the last of them. All eyes turned to their human brother. "There is no escape."

The Five reached out and touched the center of the table, where the crest of Bhaal stared up into the light.


	50. Shadows of Amn

**Shadows of Amn**

Amn was dark when Jayda and her friends returned to Athkatla, the city slumbering except for the Slums—which was always awake with some mischief. Their first instincts were to return to the Copper Coronet while Jayda and Gaelan reported their return to Renal. When he saw them, he smiled broadly, stopped what he was doing, and hugged them both. Aran had been present as well but he only smiled and nodded his welcome. Jayda was given the key to her new guildhouse and, instead of returning to the Coronet, they snuck down the Docks District to investigate.

"This buildin' be off limits to strangers!" a thief barked when they drew near. But when he saw who they were, his scowl became panic and he straightened himself. "Pardons, Guildmaster, Gaelan. I didn't recognize ye at first."

"You're just doing your job," Jayda said with a grin. "Keep up the good work."

"Aww, I tries me best, ma'am. I tries me best," he assured her and, with a bashful blush, opened the door for them.

"Careful or ye'll have the whole house kickin' dirt when ye walk by," Gaelan whispered.

"I'm sure you'll set them straight," she retorted.

Their inspection went quickly, too exhausted for details, and found their tour ended in her bedroom. Once a fire was built and there was food in their stomachs, they lounged content by the hearth, her in his arms with her back to his chest and him propped up against a chair. He idly stroked her arm, passing minutes counted by the popping of the wood in the fireplace.

"Ye said Bhaal told ye this mess wasn't over," he began, the words a shout in the silence even though he spoke low and quiet. "Does that mean ye'll be leavin' again?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"Any idea as to what it'll be about this time?"

"Bhaal said… my inheritance. I think I'm supposed to inherit his throne and his power. Gaelan… there are other Bhaalspawn."

"Others? There be more of 'em runnin' around?"

"I think so. Sarevok said 'the path to our father's love wasn't what we thought'. When I asked him what he meant by 'we', he said, 'the other Bhaalspawn'. And when I spoke to my father, he talked about all of his children, mentioned Sarevok and Imoen by name, but the way he talked about it… I think there are more. Lots more."

"And all of 'em be doin' what ye brother did? Tryin' to murder their way to god-dom?"

"Probably not all of them… but most of them, I imagine, are out there trying to do what Sarevok did. But I've never heard of anything like that—no rumors of slaughter or whispers of war. If they are killing, it is very far away or they are being very subtle."

"I doubt any of 'em would be happy that Bhaal has decided ye to be his heir."

"You're probably right."

"Let's say that's true. What are ye gonna do?"

"I'll try to save as many of them as I can…"

"And if ye can save none of them?"

"Are you asking me what I'll do if given the choice to take Bhaal's throne?" she asked with a grin, tilting her head back against his chest to look at him. He just stared at her passively. "I'll say 'no', of course. The only future I'm interested in… is this one." She covered the hand he had laid across her stomach with her own. "The one where I am here with you."

Gaelan bent down and kissed her exposed throat, slowly and wetly working his way across her flesh. He felt every little vibration of every soft sigh. He flattened his palm on her stomach and drew her closer to him, biting at the sensitive skin to provoke a surprised gasp. As his hand glided over her belly, he was momentarily distracted by an idea: could she be with child? He lifted his head and looked down at her, pulled her tunic up and glided his fingers over the naked flesh.

"Jaheira has been giving me an herbal remedy to prevent pregnancy," she mumbled as though she could read his thoughts. "She used her magic to examine me and confirmed I was not with child before she had me drink the tea."

Gaelan said nothing, only caressed her stomach. He tried to imagine her big with his child but couldn't. Did he want that? When he thought she was dead and never coming back, he had wanted to marry her, have kids with her, and spend the rest of his life with her. Now, he was pretty sure he still wanted those things, just not when. Besides, what if she had become pregnant? Would that child be a Bhaalspawn as well? Would that child have the same ill-fated life as his mother? Would it be cruel to have children with her? Yet there was something… exciting about it. Enticing, even. It was confusing. Gaelan didn't know how he felt about the idea of her being pregnant, but knowing someone was interfering with her ability to become pregnant irritated him. In hindsight, they had not known each other long, but he had never felt with anyone else the way he felt with her. It was intense, it pulled out all of the feelings he never imagined he'd had. To wonder how he would ever live on when he thought her gone forever? It told him truths he was not entirely prepared for.

He stroked her stomach again and then pulled her tunic over her head, undressing her with silence and tenderness. She reached back and helped him out of his pants—a brief struggle—and, before she could turn to get him out of his tunic, he had lifted her up into his lap and slipped inside of her. She gasped, head tilting back onto his shoulder, fingers clutching at his arms. He slowly worked his hips, taking his time, and the heat of the fire coupled with their own heat, making it difficult to breathe.

Gaelan sucked and nibbled the hollow between her shoulder and neck, hands unhurriedly exploring her body. She whimpered for him to go faster, to let her turn around and see him, but he did not answer. Whenever she tried to move in a way he did not want, he held her against him—back to chest—and continued his purposeful love-making.

As her sweat soaked into his already drenched tunic and they both began panting, unable to cool off, he pressed down onto her stomach and chest and grinded hard but slowly against her. It was a punishment as much as it was a pleasure—his punishment, and maybe even hers. His chest hurt with how much he wanted her, with how desperate he was to keep her safe and alive. The more that had happened to her, he more fearful he became. And that moment that he stared at her dead body… he couldn't get it out of his mind. He closed his eyes and saw her corpse, felt his chest constricting, thought his heart would rupture. Yet here they were, safe and happy, and he wanted that happiness to be stronger than the pain, but he was too afraid.

This intense heat that made it impossible to breathe somehow numbed his lungs and heart and put his brain in a fog, allowing him to fill himself up with the simplest of motions, feel the most basic elements of her body. Soon, he wouldn't be able to contain it, and he would release it with all of the bad. With her back to him, he didn't have to hide the pain on his face—could cry if he wanted—and she would never have to know.

For the longest time, he didn't trust himself to speak, so all of her questions went answerless, murmurs met with silence. But when his vision began to blur and her skin was hot and slick under his palms and all he could hear was the noises she made, he suddenly became very aware of her body in his arms, safe and whole, and of how they fit together so perfectly. He was Lord of the Slums and she was a Bhaalspawn, but it had never mattered… to either of them. He had never needed to be the knight in shining armor, to speak poetically, to champion justice. She had never wanted that. _Even back then, I already loved you,_ she had said. They were a meeting of the minds, of the hearts, and certainly of bodies—two thieves leading very different lives, but two thieves none-the-less.

Gaelan suddenly lifted her higher, readjusted himself, held her tight, and began thrusting in and out of her, fast and hard and with all the passion that suddenly bloomed inside of him. It overtook him until he was grunting and mumbling, "I love you" into her skin, against her ear, in her hair. She clutched him as tightly as he grasped her, responding in kind to his confessions. She turned her head toward him and he captured her mouth, tried to possess her, to devour her. And then she tightened around him, crying out with her release, and he followed, vision momentarily going white as his body expelled all of the heat, all of the pain, and all of his fear.

They settled onto the rugs, trying to catch their breath as they tangled together. Gaelan brushed back the hair sticking to her face, suddenly very aware of what he wanted.

"When this business is over… stop drinkin' the tea," he said quietly. Her eyes were misty, reflecting firelight, and he couldn't tell what she felt as she regarded him. Finally, she nodded that she would. Gaelan closed his eyes in relief and kissed her again.

/

The birds chirped noisily in the nearby trees, sun basking warmly on the cobblestones and graves. The graveyard was vast, stone markers set in shallow, rolling hills as walkways cut patterns through the grassy knolls. A peaceful breeze blew, tugging at their sleeves as they stood silently in front of Moira's tombstone. There was another small group sniffling at a fresh grave nearby, but they ignored them. Anomen was staring numbly and she could only imagine what was on his mind.

Jayda looked up at the sky and closed her eyes against the shock of the sun. She breathed in the warmth, let herself be filled with the light. It was hard to believe that just a few tenday ago, she was fighting for her life—cold, empty, lost in darkness. Now, she felt like a cat basking in the rays of a peaceful afternoon. For almost a month, she had not lifted her blades against another living creature and not once had she lost control or even came close to it.

She couldn't remember feeling this happy and free since she was an ignorant child growing up in Candlekeep. When she opened her eyes and looked at Anomen, she felt the tiniest prick of sadness, but her heart was too happy and quickly snuffed out that sliver of sorrow. She reached out and touched his shoulder, smiling when he looked back at her.

"I was just telling her about our adventure in Suldanessellar," he explained, laying his hand over hers, "and how I nearly joined her."

"Did you tell her how you helped saved the day?"

"I might've, if I could remember it." He playfully narrowed his gaze on her, but she pulled a reverse kick on his rear, causing him to stumble forward. "My lady!"

"That's for nearly joining her because you couldn't stay put!" she exclaimed.

"I thought we had moved past this—"

"You thought, huh?" She grinned. "I never kept you around to do the thinking, _Sir_ Anomen."

"Are you insulting me in front of my sister?" he gasped.

"What? She didn't know?"

He laughed. "That she did. She always told me I could never see anything until it was right in front of me…"

"And hit you in the face?"

"Yes, and hit me across the face." He rubbed the back of his head, gazing fondly at Moira's marker. A glimmer of sadness flashed across his face and then there were tears in his eyes. "I miss her terribly…"

"Gorion once told me that tears are wasted on the dead. I always assumed he meant that they were dead and crying wouldn't bring them back. But lately I've begun to think he meant that the dead are sorrowful creatures because they are dead… Don't you think that, instead of crying, Moira wants to see your smiles, and hear your laughter?" she asked. "She wants you to tell her of your adventures. She wants to know how happy you are, and how well you're doing. She has had enough of tears, wouldn't you say?"

Anomen nodded. "Yes, enough of tears," he mumbled, kneeling down to lovingly touch her gravestone. They remained that way for a long while, her standing and him kneeling, silently talking to her. Jayda silently talked to her, too. She told Moira how wonderful of a brother she had, and how sorry she was that she couldn't save her.

The group filtered away from the nearby gravesite, leaving an older man and woman there.

"Alas poor Jeeves!" the man finally exclaimed, dabbing his eyes with a decorative handkerchief. "I knew him well, dear."

"He was a most excellent butler," the woman agreed.

"Not at all like the Jystev's butler—what was his name?"

"Jeeves, dear."

"Ah, yes. Jeeves…" He made a face, tearful pride showing on his face. "Our Jeeves was a _much_ _finer_ butler than their Jeeves. He was the most obsequious groveler that I have ever had the pleasure of being fawned over by."

The woman nodded, placing a sympathetic hand on her husband's shoulder. "We should get back, dear. The new Jeeves is waiting with lunch."

He sighed deeply. "Let us stay for a few minutes more. Old Jeevesy would have wanted it that way."

And so the couple stayed. Anomen and Jayda exchanged glances and then burst into laughter. Anomen tugged her down onto his level so the other couple wouldn't see them behind the catacomb entrance that separated the two hills. They tossed jokes back and forth, chuckling until the couple departed. They finished visiting Moira with a promise to return and, before they left, they paid their respects to Old Jeevesy.

/

Days turned into weeks that turned into months, months that Jayda considered the most peaceful of her life. She spent every day working the thieves' guild, Gaelan at her side with a store of knowledge to aid her. At first, she saw her friends every day. It was almost a comfort to her to know that they were close by, having walked every day of the past few years with them. Gradually, however, they all returned to some version of a normal life.

Imoen spent her days pestering Edwin, eager to learn as much magic as she could from him while still keeping two feet in the thieving business. Edwin, while he hated being constantly tormented by her, was thrilled to have a pupil who fawned on him—even if everyone else could detect the sarcasm.

Jaheira had gone back to working for the Harper's and used their base in Athkatla to operate out of. She always kept Jayda updated on her activities—when she was leaving, how long she would be gone, and where she might be in case Jayda had to leave Athkatla abruptly. Jayda could see how much good it did her being in nature once more. Every return trip, she smiled a little more brightly and laughed a little more freely. One night she confided in Jayda that she had finally properly laid Khalid to rest.

Anomen, of course, returned to the Order of the Most Radiant Heart and foresaw Saerk's arrest, trial, and execution. After just a few weeks of being back, he traveled south to join Ser Ryan Trawl in some grand expedition. He wrote her letters as often as he could, ever suspicious that she might suddenly disappear.

Minsc and Aerie remained inseparable. Aerie returned to the circus and Minsc helped out where he was needed—mostly in the vein of heavy lifting. She once tried to incorporate him in her act, but the chaos nearly burned the tent down and so he stuck to behind-the-scenes work. And when he returned to the forests to track strange animal behavior or scout the lands, Aerie always accompanied him.

Haer'dalis returned to the playhouse beneath the Five Flagons and immediately jumped into the troupe's new season. Opening night, everyone but Anomen, who was already in the south, attended the show. It was the first event that she and Gaelan had gone together as a couple, and it was awkward and exciting at the same time. That was the first moment that Jayda almost believed she had obtained a normal and peaceful life. After the performance, the crowd gathered around the actors to praise their performances and lavish flowers and various gifts upon them. One of the patrons even approached Minsc.

"Er… excuse me, sir…" the man began timidly. "That painting on your head… and your sword… Are you one of the actors?"

"No," Minsc replied seriously. "I do not act. I fight, and fight for real."

The man was so intimidated that he immediately turned and rushed out. As everyone celebrated that night, Haer'dalis drew Jayda out of the inn and onto the sideway of the Bridge District that overlooked the dark waters below.

"I'm glad you came," he said with a full smile, still dressed in his costume."Did you enjoy the show?"

"Very much," she replied. "It was wonderful. You were wonderful. I feel a little strange now, knowing that I'm friend to such a prominent actor. Everyone was rushing at you in there, all anxious just to speak to you, and here I have you all to myself."

"I do love my fans," he said, "but you I place on an entirely different level than even my fellow bards." He met her gaze and they stared at one another awkwardly for a long moment before he cleared his throat. "We haven't seen much of each other since we got back. How are you doing?"

"Good. The guild is well and no one has come after me to kill me or steal my soul. Sometimes waiting in the shadow of inevitable pain is hard to bear. Some days I am so happy that I think I'm dreaming, and other days I wish to the Nine Hells whatever Bhaal has waiting for me would arrive so I can stop being afraid every day is the last peaceful day."

"Admit it—part of you is bored," he said with a grin.

"I admit that my daily activities are rather easy in comparison… but I know it will not last, so I am content."

"And how is Gaelan?"

"Ah…" She blushed. "He's… well."

Haer'dalis laughed. "My raven, I only want to know if you are happy."

"Yes," she replied instantly. "I am."

"This business with your soul and your dark father doesn't seem to have bothered him."

"No…" she agreed hesitantly, eyeing him suspiciously. "He doesn't… seem to care much. He—" The bard laughed again. "What's so funny?"

"Why are you so hesitant? Is there no one you confide in?"

Jayda stared at him. Was there anyone she confided in? Sometimes she talked to Imoen, but she usually just listened to whatever personal details Imoen was anxious to divulge. She confided in Gaelan, but he probably meant someone other than her lover. So she just casually shrugged one shoulder, unsure how to answer.

"I can be that person, if you wish," he said. He must've interpreted a look on her face as concern because he immediately added, "I promise that my personal feelings will have no bearing on my council, nor will anything you say hurt me. My wish is for your happiness, and if you love another, then I would never stand in the way of that."

"You have my love, too, Haer'dalis," she told him. "It's just a different kind of love."

For a moment, he seemed taken aback. And then he nodded and, looking very pleased, held out his hand. She took it and they walked down the sideway, enjoying the ocean breeze and the smell of roasted beef that wafted out of the taverns.

"You know I am still writing your song," he said suddenly. "I have not finished penning what little of your tale I know, and there is still so much to write. As you said, the journey did not end with Irenicus, it merely began. Everything that has happened to you has led up to this moment—this future moment—and never in a thousand years could this sparrow miss his chance to see it through to the end."

"You want to come with me?" she asked, surprised. "After everything?"

"With all my heart, my raven."

"And what of your show? What if that day is tomorrow? Would you really up and leave everyone again?"

"In a heartbeat," he assured her. "I am here now because you are here. If you had not returned to Athkatla, neither would I have. I go where my heart goes, Realis has always known that."

Jayda did her best to tame her smile. "I told you once, sparrow, that you're always welcome at my side. And I meant it." It was strange to her how much she had come to depend on him in such a short while. "I met you by chance, you know. A complete and total accident! It's not hard to believe that I bumped into Anomen but you… you were imprisoned by a crazy mage, hidden in a secret laboratory in the sewers!"

"I have heard of stranger things."

"We stumbled upon that hidden door. It was pure chance we decided to check things out. And here you are… One simple favor—an actor for a meeting—and now you've been through hell for me. To Brynnlaw and Spellhold, to the City-of-Caverns and the Underdark. Saving Suldanessellar, _dying_, and yet still you're mad enough to follow me."

"From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something different about you," he confessed. "I was drawn into your web—to adventure and intrigue and chaos and beauty. I have yet to regret a moment of this journey. And to follow one with such destiny, why I can think of nothing I'd rather do."

"Gaelan doesn't believe in destiny."

"And what do you believe in, my raven?"

Jayda stared out at the dark waters as she considered her answer. At one time, she had wanted to believe there was no such thing as fate. Then, she had been afraid it was true and she couldn't escape it. Standing in the Nine Hells before her father, she was positive that she had a destiny. But staring at Irenicus' burning body and crying over Sarevok's corpse, she had wondered if there really was such a thing as fate or if everyone was just swept along in life. Could there really be destiny for some and not for others? She wasn't sure.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I guess… I believe in my friends."

Haer'dalis nodded and laid his head against hers. "A fine faith, my raven. A fine faith."

/

The guildhouse was silent when Jayda slipped out of bed. She regarded Gaelan sleeping peacefully, his body curled into where hers once was and his hair in his eyes. She brushed her fingertips across his jaw and kissed his cheek then stole up to the roof. The lingering sounds of the Docks wafted up to her on the breeze that blew in from the Sea of Swords, cooling the balmy air. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the random lights on the horizon, lamps of distant ships floating off-shore.

She focused on the horizon, at the black sea glistening with white moonlight and the deep purple sky speckled with rows of rolling gray clouds, focused on where they met. What seemed so far was drawing closer—a horizon she could never catch, already in the middle of it, waiting on this precipice of unknown.

Ever since she had come back from the Nine Hells, the world had felt different to her. She hadn't told anyone—not even Gaelan—but even the air was strange. Her senses were heightened, perhaps, or maybe just changed. She could still smell the salt of the sea, taste the coming rain in the damn air, feel the chill in the breeze, hear the lapping of waves and late-night bustle of the Sea's Bounty, and see the world in the colors it was created in. But there was something more now, another smell behind every scent, a new taste to everything that touched her tongue, brighter colors and darker shadows hiding behind every corner and wall and door and person, strange sounds accompanying every noise and word. Then there were the touches, the brushes of a presence she could not see but knew all too well.

Jayda inhaled deeply, remembering her father's words. _This is not the end, daughter. This is only the beginning._ She knew it was true. She could sense it in the world now—the workings of powers she could barely comprehend that existed also within her. If she tried hard enough, focused hard enough, she could catch glimpses of feelings—hatred and fear and greed and determination and pride. She slowly exhaled her deep breath. _Now comes the inheritance_, Bhaal had said. _Are you ready?_

"I'm ready," she whispered, "whenever you are."

THE END

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaaand it's done. Over 300 pages and almost 250,000 works. Holy crap. I really hope you enjoyed the adventure, and I deeply apologize for the gaps between postings. Life calls occassionally, and sometimes the Muse was just downright uncooperative. Someday, I will go back and edit this story, fill out the beginning more, and correct any mistakes I may have missed in my edits. And someday, I will write Throne of Bhaal (and maybe even the original tale, Baldur's Gate). But until then... thank you so much for reading. :)


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